By the Book
by bammi1
Summary: Nicole Wallace is dead, and Bobby is accused of her murder. Warning for language. CONCLUSION
1. Chapter 1

None of the Law and Order C. I. Characters belong to me

By the Book

Nicole Wallace was dead, and Detective Robert Goren would be the first to admit the world was a much better place without her. Yet for some reason, well, for a couple of reasons, he felt depressed. One was because he'd never really given up on her; he'd always felt there had to be some part of that sparkling little girl that was still good, and he'd hoped she'd find it before it was too late. But now she was dead. He'd never wanted her dead. Locked away for a million years, yes. But dead? No. And now it was too late. For both of them. Because he, Bobby Goren, was accused of her murder.

Still awaiting trial, Bobby lay on the cot in his cell, in protective custody, staring at the ceiling and reflecting on his relationship with Nicole, and how his life became so incredibly screwed up. It had gone steadily downhill since the first day she'd entered it, with all their little altercations, traumas and Nicole's little games. But in her own way, she'd won. She might be dead, but she was out of her misery now, probably laughing her ass off at him, all the way from hell. Unfortunately, Bobby did not have the luxury of being dead.

"Goren," a guard was speaking to him, but he barely heard. "Goren! You've got a visitor."

"Tell her to go home," he said dully. That was all he said.

Once again, he'd been told he had a visitor, a female visitor. And once again he'd refused to see her. He had hit rock bottom. He had been publicly humiliated; they'd stripped him of everything, and put him on suicide watch. He wasn't about to let Alex, the only person he'd ever really cared about, see him like this. But now even that resolve was beginning to wane. He just didn't care anymore.

He wanted so badly just to end it all, and go to his own private spot in hell. His entire life had been one hellish nightmare, and he was tired, very tired, of fighting. Ending it would be a welcome relief. Of course they wouldn't let him. But Bobby was smart. He just had to bide his time. They'd slip up, forget about him for just a second. And then it would all be over.

A few weeks earlier

One Police Plaza

"C'mon, Bobby, I'm hungry!" Alex was getting impatient. It was quitting time, and she was more than ready to go. This case, and Bobby, were both driving her crazy. She truly regretted showing Bobby a few little tricks on the computer. Bobby did alright on the computer, but it was not his area of expertise, unlike just about everything else in his world. And of course he was soaking it up like a sponge. One thing about Bobby, you only had to tell him something once; he had his own built in computer, and his memory retained everything.

"Just a minute, Eames. I wanna check my mail."

Alex sighed. She couldn't remember the last time he checked his e-mail, and he decides to do it now.

A second later, a frown appeared on his face.

"Bobby? Is everything okay?"

Bobby looked up at her, still frowning. "It's Nicole. She's back…again." He turned off his computer. "Alright, let's go."

"Wait a minute! All of a sudden you're anxious to go? I want to see what she wrote!" Alex said playfully.

And despite Bobby's protests, she turned the computer back on. Getting into his mail, she read the one from Nicole, which read:

_My darling Bobby, I have missed you so. I couldn't wait to get back to the city and feel your arms around me once again, your lips on mine, you, inside me. No one's ever made me feel the way you do. Let me know when you'll be by. I'll be waiting. Nicole._

Alex stared for a second. "What the hell is that?"

"I…I don't know," Bobby stammered. "I don't even know how she got my e-mail address."

"Well, there's plenty of ways of doing that. She's pretty resourceful," she reminded him needlessly. Then, not taking it seriously, she teased him. "You dog."

But Bobby took everything concerning Nicole seriously. He immediately clicked on "delete."

"It can be recovered, you know," she continued.

"Yeah, I know. But at least I don't have to look at it."

She could tell he was upset. "Bobby, you know that just because she sent you an e-mail doesn't mean she's in town."

Bobby just looked at her. "She's back, Eames." There was no question at all in his voice. " She's back. Son of a bitch!" He punched the computer off angrily. "Are we going to dinner or not?" he said, really pissed.

"Sure, Romeo. You're the one who had to check your e-mail."

"It's the last time I do that when you're around."

Sensing Bobby's good mood going quickly down the tube, Alex decided to drop the subject. "Sorry. Okay, what's it gonna be, Chinese, Italian, pizza? Bear in mind, you're paying."

"Italian. Sal's."

On any given night, this would be the perfect setting; his favorite restaurant, eating his favorite food, drinking a nice wine, and enjoying the company of his best friend, Alex. But Bobby could not keep his mind on any of it. All he could think of was that damn e-mail. And he had a very bad feeling about it.

Tbc

A/N Any suggestions for this story would be welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

By the Book Chapter 2

The emails continued on a regular basis, for a couple of weeks now. After a while Bobby came to the conclusion that, although they were disgusting and very sexually explicit, they appeared to be fairly harmless. Nicole, for whatever reason, was playing with his mind again, and it did bother him. He figured somewhere along the line she was up to something, but until she actually _did_ something there was nothing he could do.

Having had the weekend off, he arrived at work on Monday carrying two cups of coffee, black for him, black with _lots_ of sugar for Alex. Alex was already there, ahead of him for a change.

"Thanks," she said as Bobby handed her one of the coffees. Taking a better look at him she shook her head. "Did you sleep at all?"

"Yeah," he replied, turning on his computer.

"Liar. Look at you. You look like you haven't slept for a week!"

"What's wrong with the way I look?"

Ignoring his question she asked, "It's those damn emails, isn't it? I can't—"

"I've got another one," he said.

Getting up and walking behind Bobby, she peered over his shoulder at the e-mail.

_Bobby, I missed you the other night. You were all I could think of. I waited for you, but apparently you were busy with your other girlfriend. You were very naughty. I cannot forgive you this time, Bobby. Do not let it happen again._

_Nicole_

Bobby's face turned crimson at the knowledge that Nicole had actually watched him with his girlfriend, Lauren. And now Alex knew, which embarrassed him even more. He slammed his fist down so hard on the desk it made even Alex jump.

"Son of a bitch! She's been watching me! And… and that means Lauren could be in danger…"

Alex truly hated Nicole for the torture she constantly put Bobby through.

"I take it you _were_ with Lauren last night?"

Bobby looked at her and just nodded.

Nicole studied her young lover, Jake, asleep in the bed beside her. Despite being young and somewhat nice looking, she was both bored and disgusted with him. Disgusted with him because he was a typical male, only out for what he could get. He was also hot headed and had quite a vicious jealous streak, which fit nicely into her plans, not to mention he had a relative in the upper echelon of the police department. Surely she could use that to her advantage.

She then thought of Bobby, and wondered how he was coping. If he was privately embarrassed by her emails, how fun would it be if they were made public? She thought of contacting the Ledger, and giving them all the sordid details of a police detective cavorting with an escaped murder suspect, giving them the emails. He'd have quite a bit of explaining to do after that. She smiled. Bobby was so fun, in a way it would really be a shame when he lands his ass in jail for murder, with all that she had planned for him. She would have to imagine his life after that. The way she figured it, one very used, very miserable ex-cop in prison equals one very used, very miserable dead ex-cop. They could put him in protective custody and all the solitary confinements they wanted. Eventually someone would get to him, whether a guard or another prisoner. They always did; it was inevitable.

Poor Bobby. He was the only one who ever really "got" her, her only real challenge. She really would miss him.

Her plan was a very simple one. Kill Jake, lure Bobby over, and then leave. Bobby would be caught with the body, take the fall for Jake's death in what would supposedly would have been a battle between rival lovers. With Jake's connection to the police, they would push hard to get Jake's killer. She had it all worked out, all the details, down to the nth degree. It was just a matter of time now.

The following morning, when Bobby started up his computer, as expected, there was another email from Nicole. Bobby sighed. He was growing weary of all this. He'd debated whether to even mess with the computer at all, but figured that wouldn't help with his job. Sometimes that computer really helped out. _Almost_ as much as a library card. So, use the computer he must.

After reading Nicole's note Bobby slammed down the top of his computer, and stood up angrily, scraping the chair behind him, knocking it over in the process, and attracting curious glances from his co-workers. He paced, very distracted, running his hands through his hair.

"What's it say this time?" Alex asked, seeing the look on his face.

Bobby did not look happy. "It just says that now she is not only just watching me, but Lauren all the time, too. She knows where Lauren lives, where she works, what her bedroom looks like. She, uh, she's seen us there together."

"Are you sure she's seen—"

"I'm positive."

There was something else, too. "What Bobby?"

"She says she'll kill Lauren…"

Alex got up and went to Bobby's computer. Opening the email, she read:

_Bobby, my Darling, why do you insist on making me angry? I warned you to stay away from your little slut Lauren. You leave me no choice but to punish you. Unfortunately, not in the way you love me to punish you._

_Since you cannot seem to keep your hands and certain other parts of your body to yourself, I will have to help you. If you so much as look at that woman again, I will kill her. Watching as the blood streams from her throat would be my second greatest pleasure. My greatest pleasure will be to watch as you watch her die, thanks to your incompetence. Another of your little failures. For the life of me I do not understand why they still keep you on. . _

_Although I will not share you physically Bobby, perhaps I can share you vicariously. Won't it be fun when I sell our emails to the Ledger? Unfortunately for you, I don't think your reputation could stand to take another hit._

_Cheers! Nicole_

"Well, maybe we can at least get her for stalking," Alex suggested. "If we can find her."

Bobby sat back down at his desk, his head in his hands, thinking. Finally he looked up, his eyes starting to liven up.

"Well, if Nicole wants to play so badly, we'll play." He sounded confident again.

Bobby got on the computer, hit "reply" and wrote, _Okay, Nicole. You've got my full attention. You want to play, we'll play. Name the time, name the place._ Then he hit "send."

"Now, we wait."

It wasn't long. Before long there was a reply. She wanted to meet Bobby at the Victorian Hotel at 10 p.m., alone.

"I'm coming along, Bobby."

"No. She said alone, so I'm going alone."

"But—"

"Eames, if she was going to kill me, she'd have done it by now. She's known all along where _I_ am. She just wants to torture me. I'll be okay."

Dressed casually in jeans, t-shirt and flannel shirt, Bobby arrived at the Victorian Hotel at the appointed time. Going to Nicole's room, he rapped sharply on the door. To his surprise, the door opened slightly.

"Nicole?" Getting no reply, he removed his gun from his holster, and holding it in front of him, slowly opened the door and stepped into the room cautiously. "Nicole?" he said again. He moved further in, then came to the bedroom. Again, he moved warily. Then he saw her, on the floor, naked, and lying very still.

"Shit!" He quickly re-holstered his gun and dropped to his knees beside her. Feeling her neck for a pulse, he simultaneously pulled out his phone and called for an ambulance. Not finding a pulse, he turned her to start CPR. At that moment he heard a commotion behind him. Suddenly there were police all around, screaming at him.

"Get down!" one shouted. "GET DOWN!" Before Bobby could react, they were all over him, knocking him down face first onto the floor, while they continued shouting, pointing their guns at his head.

Bobby allowed his body to just go limp, not daring to struggle against these guys as they snapped the cuffs on his wrists. Then they frisked him, finding his gun and his knife. They jerked him to his feet, thrusting his weapons in his face, where a line of blood began dripping steadily from his nose. "What's this?" they demanded.

"It's my gun, and I'm NY—"

One of the cops punched him hard in the back of the head. "We know what it is, Asshole! What are _you_ doing with it?"

Struggling to contain his temper, Bobby said evenly, "I'm NYPD. My badge and I.D. are in my breast pocket."

The hard-ass one who'd punched him took them out of his pocket, and looked at first the badge, then his I.D

"Detective First Grade Robert Goren, MCS, NYPD" he read aloud.

One of the other cops mellowed. "Sorry about that, Detective," indicating the punch to his head and the bloody nose.

Bobby just nodded, halfway expecting them to remove the cuffs. They didn't.

"You mind telling us what you're doing here, Detective?" the hard-ass asked.

"I came here to talk to her. The door was open, I came in, found the body. I was attempting to—"

"What'd you want to talk to her about?"

Bobby decided to say nothing, not wishing to give them any ammo.

"I think we're going to have to detain you for a bit, Detective. We'll just go downtown for a little chat."

Bobby nodded again, just slightly. He hoped their little chat wouldn't include fists. Something told him he was going to be in need of a pretty good lawyer.

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

By the Book Chapter 3 

_Warning-- for language_

Two detectives held Bobby in custody almost all night. He wasn't allowed a phone call or a lawyer, or even a drink, because he wasn't under arrest. He was a "witness."

Bobby knew what they were up to, and wasn't about to cave. He repeated over and over his original statement. "I just went to talk to her. The door was open. I tr—"

"Shut up!" barked Abrams, the first detective. He was tired of listening to the same few words coming from Bobby's mouth. "Y'know, for such a smart guy you're acting pretty stupid here. Look, Bobby, all of us here know you're in a big jam. You can help yourself—"

"If I knew something I'd tell you! For Christ's sake, you think I like sitting here with you dicks? While you're sitting here 'chatting' with me, the real killer is getting away!"

"I don't know," the second detective said derisively. "I think maybe we're sitting with the real killer now."

Bobby was exhausted and pissed. He said once again, "If I'm not under arrest, I'm leaving." He started to get up, only to be pushed subtlely yet firmly back down.

"Can't do that, Bobby. You know that. You really need to tell us what you know."

It took everything Bobby had to maintain his temper. "What I _know_ is that the person you're protecting—the guilty person—must be pretty damn important if you're going through all this trouble to push it off onto me."

That earned Bobby another blow to the back of his head. The blow dazed him for a moment, then made him angry. He started to go for Abrams, then stopped himself, but not before unintentionally bumping him. It was the opportunity they were waiting for.

"Guess nobody ever told him not to go around assaulting police officers," Abrams told his partner.

"Guess not," Richardson replied. "Maybe somebody needs to educate him."

They held the handcuffs out, waiting for Bobby to put his hands behind him.

"Y'know," Bobby started, "those aren't really nec—"

"Shut up!" Richardson snarled at him, pushing him face-first onto the table. Then they handcuffed him again and took him to another room.

The two detectives made sure they didn't hit him in the face. Not wanting to leave any visible bruises, they concentrated on his abdominal area, occasionally hitting him solidly in the back of the head.

They also didn't break any bones. They just continued to hit him in the abdomen, long and hard, till he could hardly move, let alone stand up.

Hours later, when he could finally manage to stand on his own, he was released, with the warning that if he had any plans for the future to cancel them.

Bobby's apartment

Once home, Bobby walked slowly to his couch, every movement causing pain. He lifted his shirt to see the damage. From his stomach all the way down to, and including his groin, was a huge contusion, and in some places the skin was broken. He also had a large lump on the back of his head. It was painful to even touch. But with no broken bones, all told, Bobby figured he got off pretty easy.

He eased himself down onto his couch to rest for a few minutes, then picked up his phone and made two phone calls, one to Captain Deakins, and the other to his lawyer.

The first call he made was to his lawyer friend, Joe Simon. Simon was a busy guy, and was currently out of town. Not having his cellphone number, Bobby left a voice mail, with a message telling Joe to call back as soon as he got it, it was urgent.

Then he called Deakins. "Hey, Captain, it's Goren…"

Deakins was already in a foul mood. "Goren? Where the hell are you? We've been trying to get hold of you for hours!"

Thrown off a little by Deakins' outburst, Bobby mumbled, " I was uh…detained."

Deakins continued. "Nicole Wallace is dead. Did you know that? Word has it a cop did it."

Bobby didn't say anything.

"Bobby? Did you hear me?"

Finally Bobby spoke. "Yeah, I know. I've been downtown all night with those dicks from Homicide trying to convince them I didn't do it."

It was Deakins' turn to go speechless. After a moment, very seriously and very quietly, Deakins said, "What the hell happened, Bobby?"

Bobby sighed. "Long story, Captain. Bottom line is, I'm in a world of shit. They're going to arrest me."

"Fuck!"

"Yeah, that's what I said, too." He sighed again.

"You got a lawyer, Bobby? You're gonna need one."

"Yeah, I got one. But I can't get in touch with him right now. He'll call back."

Deakins didn't know what else to say. He was still in a state of shock. "Well, all right. If you need anything, _anything,_ let me know."

"I will." He moved slightly, causing him to wince in pain. He wanted to say he could get him a doctor, but he didn't.

"You want to talk to Alex? She's gonna rip me apart if I don't give her this phone."

"Yeah." He took a shallow breath; taking a deep one hurt too much.

"Bobby, what happened?" She demanded. She wasn't a bit happy with him. He was supposed to call her when he got back from seeing Nicole. He never did, and then shut his cell phone off.

"Alex, I couldn't—"

"Are you hurt? Never mind, I'm coming over."

"Alex, it's not—"

"Don't you dare tell me it's not necessary!" She hung up.

"Shit!" He moved sharply, causing himself more pain. He eased himself into a prone position. He was hurting, and he was dead-ass tired after being questioned and knocked around all night. All he wanted right now was to sleep. Damn! Why hadn't he gotten some Motrin or something before he lay down? He wasn't about to get up now, he'd just have to wait for Alex.

Half an hour later Alex was there. She knocked on his door. No answer. She dug out her key and walked in.

Bobby was asleep on the couch, and she had to admit, he looked rough. His clothes were a rumpled mess, his curly hair disheveled, and he needed a shave, as usual.

Then he moved in his sleep, and groaned, clutching his stomach. Alex was upset. Shaking his shoulder gently, she tried to wake him.

"Bobby? Bobby, wake up. Are you okay?" His eyelids fluttered momentarily, then he was back asleep.

"Bobby! Wake up!" She was more forceful this time, shaking him harder.

This time when he woke up he tried to sit up without allowing Alex to see him in pain. She caught it anyway.

"Shit, Bobby! What the hell did they do to you?" She helped him to sit up fully.

"Not nearly as much as they could have," he told her. "I'm okay, Alex. Really."

"Do you need anything?" she asked softly, brushing back his hair. That's when she felt the lump at the back of his head. She bristled.

Bobby looked up at her with his soft brown eyes. "A little ibuprofen, maybe?"

She nodded and went to the kitchen, returning with some Motrin and water. She handed them to him, and watched as he took them. Sensing her gaze on him, he repeated, "Alex, I swear to God, they went easy on me. I'm okay."

"Bobby! You weren't even under arrest! They shouldn't have touched you! Imagine what they'll do you if they arrest you!"

"_When_ they arrest me," he corrected her. "They're _going_ to arrest me. It's just a matter of when they can get their shit together."

"What happened last night, Bobby?" she asked again.

Bobby sighed. "I went there, the door was open, and she was dead. I was just going to try CPR when the police busted in."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Bobby, think carefully. What exactly were you doing? Where was Nicole?"

"I just told you, she was _dead, _and I was trying—" A sudden thought occurred to him. "Alex, you do believe me, don't you?"

"Of course I do! I just want you to be—"

"Jesus Christ, Alex," he said softly. "If I can't even get _you_ to believe me, how in the hell am I ever going to get _them_ to believe me?"

"I do believe you, Bobby." She kissed him lightly on the cheek. "And I believe _in_ you. We're gonna work this out, I promise you."

As much as Bobby wanted to believe that, he was unconvinced. "Alex, they've got more than enough to arrest me. I was kneeling over her body for Christ's sake! They've got my fingerprints on the body, and they've got motive. For some reason they want to hang this on me, Alex. And they're gonna do it."

Downtown, at the same time

"You stupid bastard!" Assistant Chief of Detectives Mark Connelly yelled at his son. "You stupid son of a bitch!" His son, Jake Connelly, sat on his father's couch, staring up at him.

"It was an accident, Dad!" he tried to explain. "I never meant it to happen! I saw those emails and I lost it! All I could think of was her and that fuckin' cop! She…she never saw it coming."

His father stared at him, repeating "stupid son of a bitch" over and over, pacing the room. "I told you before to get some help for that insane jealousy of yours. You're a screw up, Jake. A stupid fucking screw up! You're not a kid anymore, Jake, you're thirty years old! I can't keep pulling strings all the time to keep your sorry ass out of jail!" He was furious.

"What…what are we gonna do?" Jake asked.

"_You're_ not going to do anything! You're going to lay low, and keep your goddamn mouth shut!"

"So what happens now?" Jake asked, scowling.

"What happens now? Well, thanks to you, I've had to call in every favor ever owed me. Every dirty cop, every clean cop who owes me. It's gonna be fixed. It's all gonna fall on that cop."

"Good," Jake said, satisfied, a smug smile on his face.

"_Good?_" his father repeated, amazed at the callousness of his son. "Good? Because of you and your stupidness, an innocent man is going to go to prison. Not to mention one of the best detectives the NYPD has ever had. And now you've turned your own father dirty. We're supposed to be brothers here," he said, indicating the whole police organization. "and I gotta send a cop to prison." He looked kind of sad, but he had to do it. His wife would never forgive him if he sent their own son to prison. So it was either his son or Detective Robert Goren, and Robert Goren lost.

tbc

9


	4. Chapter 4

By the Book chapter 4

Three days later, Captain Jimmy Deakins and his best friend of many years, Captain Harry Caldwell, were having dinner with their respective spouses, a date they'd had planned for weeks. When at last the women went off to the ladies room, the men finally had a chance to talk.

"So what's the latest on your boy?" Harry asked.

Deakins sighed. "Not good. IAB's already stepped in; he's on suspension. It was hard on him, real hard, having to turn in his gun and badge. Pride, y'know? Bobby's a great cop; if he were more politically driven I'd say he'd be commissioner some day. And a damn good one. I think all this has hurt him pretty bad."

"Don't get pissed at me, Jimmy, but what do you _really_ think? You think he did it? I mean, the evidence…?"

"No! No fucking way!" Jimmy wasn't pissed at his friend; the evidence _was_ damaging, but he was very vehement in defending his detective. "I know Bobby, and there's no way in hell he did it." Then he confided in his friend. "Harry, can I tell you something? Just between us?"

Harry looked surprised, but he was curious, and Jimmy was his good friend. "Yeah, sure, Jimmy. What is it?"

"Goren claims he's been set up, big time. I know it, Eames knows it, and Bobby knows it. We don't know how or why. What we do know is that this setup is coming from above."

Harry's surprise turned to shock. "What the hell? Jimmy, are you saying—"

Their conversation ceased, the wives were back.

After their evening, and their good-byes, Harry looked at Deakins pointedly. "Jimmy, call me."

Bobby's Apartment 

Bobby Goren was angry, and he was miserable. He was officially on suspension, and he didn't like it one bit. Bobby was the kind of guy who was always on the move; could never sit still. Work was his passion, and now he couldn't work. He couldn't do _anything_, except sit around wondering, agonizing, about his fate. And with his abdomen still injured, he couldn't even pace. At least not very well. There was no way to work off his nervous energy.

The worst thing for Bobby was the knowledge that he'd been betrayed. And that hurt. That hurt more than he could ever have imagined. With too much time on his hands, he had way too much time to think, and he couldn't get the betrayal off his mind. Bobby's entire life had been spent serving the public in some way. All his years as an criminal investigator/intelligence officer in the army, his years in Narcotics, and now Major Case…the overtime, the distress he put himself through on almost every case… It was more than just a job. It was his life. And the truth was he put more into the job than anyone. And now they weren't just turning on him, they were nailing him to the wall, screwing him royally.

He thought about his interrogation by Internal Affairs. Internal Affairs had been rough. Somehow the emails were brought into it, as Bobby knew they would be. And that provided the motive. IA accused Bobby of carrying on an affair with a known murder suspect, which in itself was both unethical and a conflict of interest. They questioned him about whether he'd murdered her to prevent her from making those emails public, thus exposing their relationship. They painted their alleged relationship as sick, lewd, and immoral. They drug him down in every possible way, trying to extract some kind of confession. He'd been humiliated, especially when he'd been put on suspension and had to surrender his gun and badge. It really brought him down. One thing IAB didn't want was the public going on about a rogue cop on the loose, especially one with a reputation for being a loose cannon. That was not going to happen.

To make matters worse, Bobby couldn't even participate in the investigation, which was driving him crazy. He was the one person must likely to solve this crime, and he was the one being kept off the case. He found that rather ironic.

It was still morning, and Bobby had already gone through a six pack of beer. He decided to call Alex.

Alex answered. "Eames."

"Hey, Eames, it's me. Hear anything yet?"

"Not yet, Bobby."

God, Eames, I'm going crazy here!"

"Crazier than when you last called, let's see, when was it? Oh, yeah…a half hour ago." Immediately she felt guilty.

Bobby was glad she couldn't see his face, which had turned a bright red. "Sorry," he muttered. "It's just that…this doing nothing is killing me…Jesus Christ! How the hell did this happen?"

"Bobby, it'll work out. You're innocent. We all know it. When those detectives from Homicide get their heads out of their asses, they'll get it right."

"I don't know, Eames, they seemed to think they had it right the other night." His hand went unconsciously to his abdomen, where the muscles were still stiff and hurting.

"Bobby, I…I wish I could do something. Since Homicide's got it, they're keeping me out. I don't know what they've got. I'll be over after while, we'll discuss this, okay? I'll bring pizza and some beer."

"Forget the beer, Eames. I've got plenty."

_Great,_ she thought, imagining avery miserableanddrunk Bobby.

Bobby was lying around, drinking a beer, and watching the History Channel. He couldn't even get interested in that, and soon he fell into a very fitful sleep. He was dreaming, and not very pleasant dreams. One had Nicole Wallace lying in a heap, dead, at his feet while he, Bobby, was on the witness stand. His father, belt in hand, was both the judge and the jury.

A few hours later Alex arrived, carrying two pizzas. Using her key, she entered. She looked around. Judging by the many empty bottles, Bobby apparently drank both breakfast and lunch.

She went to the couch where Bobby was sleeping. She could tell he was dreaming; he was restless, saying words that made no sense, obviously upset. She looked at him sadly. Like he hadn't had enough problems in his life, now he had this murder charge hanging over him. She woke him gently.

"C'mon, Bobby, get up, you're dreaming."

He shot up like a rocket, and yelled something unintelligible.

Alex had backed off, out of the way of his spiraling arms.

"Bobby, it's okay," she said soothingly. "You're having a dream. Wake up."

Bobby was now fully awake. He ran his hands through his hair. "Holy shit!" Then, realizing he'd been reacting wildly, "Uh, are you okay? I didn't hu—"

"I'm okay, Bobby. Are you?"

He took a deep breath and settled back in the couch. "I guess." Then, to change the subject, he said, "You brought something?"

"I brought some pizza."

"Already ate," he mumbled, leaning back again.

"Funny… I don't remember them adding beer to the four basic food groups. Now get up, we're going to get some _solid_ food in you, then we're going to clean this place up. And then we're going to try to figure something out."

He sighed as he accepted the paper plate, loaded with three slices of meatlover's pizza..

"Now eat," she told him.

Bobby started to get up. "Need something to drink with this," he said, reaching for another beer. He barely had it in his hand before Alex snatched it out.

"No! No more. If you want something to drink, it's either milk or water. Take your pick."

"Water."

"Fine. I'll get you some water, and put on a pot of coffee for afterwards…are you even listening?"

Bobby was definitely preoccupied, but he heard every word. "You're gonna get me some water, put on some coffee, then we'll talk, I guess."

"Okay," she said, satisfied. Then she went to the kitchen and went about getting his water. As she did so, she heard a loud rapping at the door.

"Police! Open up! We have a warrant!"

Although Bobby had known it was coming, his stomach still balled up into a huge knot. He got up slowly and went to the door, just as Alex came back into the room with the water.

Once Bobby had the door just slightly ajar, the detectives pushed their way in.

"Robert Goren," Abrams said, "we have a warrant for your arrest. Please turn around and put your hands behind your back."

Bobby did as he was told. He put his hands behind him, and Abrams ratcheted the cuffs around his wrists tightly, as Richardson intoned, "You have the right to remain silent…"

Bobby never even got a bite of his dinner.

Tbc


	5. Chapter 5

By the Book Chapter 5 

Alex was on the phone immediately.

"Deakins," came the reply.

"Captain? It's Alex. Bobby's been arrested."

Deakins sighed heavily. "When?"

"Just now. Those two cops from Homicide…"

Deakins thought for a second. "Did Bobby's lawyer ever get back with him? What's his name, Simon? Simons?"

"I'm not exactly sure. I've never met him, but I'll see if I can get in touch with him."

Interrogation Room, Homicide

Bobby was officially charged with the murder of Nicole Wallace. He had been through all the littledetails of being arrested; the mug shot, the fingerprinting again, and all the other little indignities. Now he sat in the interrogation room waiting for Abrams and Richardson. They were making him wait…and wait, giving him time to think about his situation, sweat for a while. Playing their own little games with him.

Finally they came into the room. One sat across from him, one sat next to him.

"Well," Abrams said smugly, "at least they didn't find any contraband on you. Ever had a body cavity search done on you before? That'll be coming up soon in your future…" He was doing his best to make Bobby uncomfortable.

Bobby refused to say anything

"He'd probably like it. He's probably a fag." Richardson said. "Would'ja like that, Bobby?"

Still Bobby didn't answer.

"Y'know, prison's a little like that… But why am I telling you this? You're a cop. You know what goes on. I guess I'm just kinda reminding you…you know, so you can help yourself a little here, maybe shorten your sentence a little…"

Then, hardly waiting for Richardson to finish, Abrams started in. "Couldn't help but notice all the beer bottles in your apartment. You drunk Bobby? They give you a breath test? How'd that turn out?"

"I want to speak to my lawyer," Bobby said.

Abrams ignored him. "Answer my question: are you drunk?"

"I had a few freakin' beers, okay, but I'm not drunk. What does—"

"Were you drinking the night you went to Nicole's?"

"No."

"So you just developed this drinking problem recently? Since you went to Nicole's?"

Bobby said nothing.

"C'mon, Bobby, did you get a guilty conscience? Is that why you started drinking?"

"Why don't you just shut the fuck up?" Bobby said, very calmly on the surface, but furious inside. "What, you think I don't know all the little tricks? _I'm a cop, remember?"_ Bobby threw Richardson's words back at him.

"You've also got a smart mouth," Richardson said. He grabbed a handful of Bobby's hair and pulled his head back. "Sometimes people with smart mouths get hurt. You know what I mean?" He was right in Bobby's face. It was all Bobby could do not to punch this guy's lights out.

But Bobby did know what he meant, and he didn't particularly want a replay of the other night. He was still hurting, still feeling the effects of that "little" beating the other night. He was pretty sure they wouldn't go so easy on him this time.

They'd been interrogating him for about nine hours, alternating with one another whenever one of them wanted a break. Abrams decided he needed another one of his smoke breaks. He got up and left the room, leaving Richardson with Bobby. He lit up a cigarette as he pulled out his cell phone, and waited for it to ring.

He answered on the first ring.

"You got something for me?"

"Uh, no sir. Not yet." He didn't recognize the voice.

"What seems to be the problem?" The voice sounded deceptively calm, but had the effect of making Abrams extremely tense.

"Sir, uh, it's only been nine hours—"

"Yeah? Need I remind you his arraignment is only two days away, and quite frankly, we'd prefer an arraignment not be necessary."

Abrams wondered who the "we" were. "Yeah, well, I don't think this guy's gonna break—"

"Listen you shit! You either break him or I'll break the two of you. You'll be out walking a beat in the Bronx. _If_ you survive."

Abrams didn't say anything, and the voice continued, "Remember the positive side, what's in for you if you succeed."

"Yeah, alright. Can I ask why you guys are pushing so hard to get a confession out of him? We got enough to indict him…"

"The less you know the better. Just get him to confess."

"Did he do it or not?"

"You and your partner would be wise to just do your job and keep your mouths shut." There was a dangerous edge to the man's voice. The phone clicked off.

Abrams was a little uneasy. He didn't like the idea of taking orders from an unknown source. But something told him it would be in his best interest to do so. He just wasn't sure just how hard he was supposed to go on Goren to get that confession. And if the guy was innocent, as he claimed, why would he confess? Abrams knew that he and his partner were in a tight spot.

Going back to the interrogation room he saw Richardson still going at Bobby. He called his partner out, and Bobby rested his weary head on the table.

"Well?" Richardson asked.

"We gotta break him."

"He ain't gonna break," Richardson protested.

"He _has_ to!"

Richardson narrowed his eyes. "We got the guy, we don't need him to confess. Let the D.A. handle that."

"We can't."

"What the hell's going on, Larry?"

"They're putting the squeeze on us, Rich," Abrams said. "Whoever's sending these orders down is dead serious. They…threatened us."

Richardson's eyes grew wide. He didn't like this at all. He glanced through the window at Bobby. "Wonder what this guy did to piss them off?"

Abrams had no answer. "I don't know. But if we can't get a confession out of him, we'll be the ones pissing them off. And I…don't wanna do that."

"Let's get back in there," Richardson said wearily. Suddenly all the "fun" went out of this interrogation.

x x x

Bobby had to admit to himself, he was getting a little scared. This was not going at all like he expected. He figured by now he'd be sitting in a cell, just waiting for arraignment. Instead these assholes were still going at him. And there was no sign of any let up. If anything, it was worse. He figured he was in for a rough time of it.

The two detectives strode in purposefully to Bobby. They each grabbed one of his arms and pulled him to his feet, shoving him into the wall.

Abrams was in his face. "Okay, Goren, we're done playing your little games—"

"MY little games? I'm not the one who—"

His words were cut off by a hard blow to his abdomen, doubling him over, and before he could recover, another one.

"You either sign this confession on your own…"

"Or you'll… beat it… out of me?" Bobby choked out, still angry but barely able to speak.

Richardson laughed. "He ain't as dumb as he looks." Then he shoved Bobby back into his chair, and grabbing him by his hair again told him, "Sign!"

"Fuck you," Bobby said. He knew it would cost him. And it did. They cuffed him again. And this time they didn't worry about the bruises showing.

x x x

Bobby was nearly unconscious when the door opened, and two men walked in. "This is Mister—" their captain started, and the other man said "What the fuck!"

The two detectives stopped, each one mumbling some inane excuse for what was going on.

Joe Simon, Bobby's lawyer, was furious. "He needs a doctor. Call an ambulance now!"

"He's under arrest!" Richardson protested, "for murder! He's not going anywhere!"

"The hell he's not!" Even their captain disagreed. As the captain removed the cuffs, Joe Simon tried to help Bobby up. "Bobby? C'mon buddy, get up." With the help of Joe Simon, Bobby managed to get up and back into the chair, holding his head with one hand and his gut with the other.

Joe was outraged. He turned to the captain and the two detectives. "I'm having the two of you arrested for aggravated assault and battery and using excessive force on a police officer."

Abrams said sullenly, "We never touched him! He fell, and we were helping him up. We damn sure never used a weapon on him, and if he says otherwise he's a damn liar!"

But Joe was too angry to even consider their words. "You didn't need a weapon. When you handcuffed my client's hands behind his back then beat him and kicked him, your fists and feet became your weapon. Gentlemen, I think your days as police officers are numbered."

"We'll see about that," Richardson said smugly. But for all their outward bravado, both seriously believed they had bigger problems than the possibility of losing their badges.

He turned back to Bobby. "It's okay, buddy, we're going to—" But his words were lost on Bobby. He was unconscious again.

x x x

Bobby awoke again in Mt. Sinai Hospital. He was hurting, and tried to shift himself, groaning softly. But something wasn't right. He couldn't turn himself, and there was a soft clattering of metal on metal. He slowly opened his eyes to see Alex watching him, as he slowly came to the realization that his left wrist was cuffed to the side of the bed rail.

"What?" he mumbled, not understanding.

Alex really didn't want to be the one to tell him this, but she was the one who was there, and therefore didn't have much choice.

She started gently. "Bobby, how are you feeling?"

"What's wrong with me?"

"You've got a bad concussion, and a couple of broken ribs and some bad bruising to—"

Bobby jerked at the cuffs. "What the hells going on?" he demanded angrily, then winced in pain.

Alex sighed. " Bobby, they thought that taking you to the hospital ward at Riker's would take too long. And since you're still under arrest the only condition under which you could be brought here was to be restrained with the cuffs. I'm so sorry, Bobby." There were tears in her eyes.

A deep sense of shame overcame Bobby. He suddenly couldn't stand the thought of Alex seeing him like this, feeling sorry for him. He was deeply humiliated. He closed his eyes for a moment, then tried to turn his body away from her. Not only did it hurt too much, but with her on his left side, and his hand cuffed to the left side of the bed, it was virtually impossible. The only thing he could do was turn his face away. He felt incredibly vulnerable, and the last thing he wanted was Alex's pity.

"Um…Alex…do you…do you think you could leave now?" He said it so softly she could barely hear him.

She did understand. "Bobby, I—"

"Please, Alex, just…go."

Alex sighed again. She knew how hurtful this was to him, how being put in this position deeply hurt his pride, and whatever dignity he felt he had left. Not wishing to cause him any more pain she stood up, brushed a wayward curl back, and lightly kissed his forehead. "Okay, Bobby, I'll go. Just know that we are on your side, and we _will_ get you cleared. I promise you that."

Bobby,both physically and mentally in a lot of pain, still couldn't look at her. The only way he knew she was gone was by the sound of her footsteps gradually fading away. Then he was alone.

tbc

A/N Sorry for the delay in posting. I just came off a 70 hour work week, doing midnights. It was a tough week.

I have a pretty good idea where I'm taking this now, but if anyone has any other ideas for this, I'm open. Email me. Thanks. And thanks for reviewing.


	6. Chapter 6

By the Book Chapter 6 

Jake Connelly was living it up, more cocky and reckless than ever. And why not? Thanks to his Dad, pulling strings again on his behalf, he'd just gotten away with murder. Literally, figuratively, any way you wanted to look at it, he'd gotten away with murder. With his sappy father in his corner, he felt he was invincible. The feeling of power it gave him was incredible. The only misgivings he had about the whole affair was that he was missing out on a fine piece of ass. Nicole Wallace, despite being older than him, was quite the lover. He thought he knew all the tricks until she came along; guess it was true was they said about an experienced older woman. Yeah, in a way he would miss her, but she was easily replaced. That bitch cheated on him with that cop. She got what she deserved.

When he thought about that detective, he had to laugh. That bastard was going to pay for what he did, messing around with his woman. His dad would see to that, really put the screws to him.

Jake was drinking and bragging, his two favorite things to do in life other than putting down his father. Tonight he was doing all three, with the encouragement of his equally inebriated friends.

"Can you believe that asshole tried to give me a ticket? Me!" Jake had gotten out of another jam with the police, thanks to his father. Now he was drunk again. He spilled half his drink on himself, then, indicating his half-empty glass, yelled at the bartender. "Hey what's up with you, Jerkoff? Trying to stiff me here?" When the bartender ignored him, Jake yelled again, "I oughta have my old man shut this place down!" His buddies agreed, laughing and making their own comments.

"My old man," Jake slurred, "what a sap. He's so freaking pussy whipped." He took another drink, weaving back and forth. "The only reason I got out of that murder thing is because he's so afraid of my mother…"

"Shut up, Jake," one of his less inebriated friends told him, trying to rein him in, out of earshot of the bartender. But Jake was having nothing of it. He shoved his friend away. " I just wanna say…tell you what I did to… killed… that cheatin' bitch. But I won't right now. Cause I'm too fuckin' drunk…"

The few other patrons of the bar, and the bartender all heard what Jake said, but they all attributed it to the inane ramblings of a drunk. No one connected it to the Nicole Wallace murder.

Mt. Sinai Hospital 

Defense attorney and friend Joseph Simon arrived at Mt. Sinai Hospital after getting word that his client had finally regained consciousness. He passed Bobby's partner, Alex Eames, who was sitting in the lobby, apparently lost in thought. They had only met once before, a few days ago when Alex had finally contacted and hired him to represent Bobby.

"Ms. Eames," he called to the obviously distracted Alex. "How is he?"

Alex looked up, unaware that he was there. She looked at her watch; she'd been sitting there for quite a while. She shook her head. "He's not…very well."

Joe frowned. "Ah, shit! Is it that head injury? He's not unconscious again?"

"No. He's awake. He's just very…upset…about his situation."

Joe looked at her, questioningly. "Situation?"

"He's been shamed, humiliated. And I don't blame him! He's done nothing but serve the public his entire life. And look how they're treating him! They've got him handcuffed to the bed, like a common criminal! He…he doesn't deserve that." Her eyes were bright with tears that were about to overflow.

Joe sighed. "I had to get him medical treatment immediately," he explained. "That was my first priority. It's the only way—"

"I know," Alex agreed. "It's not your fault. In fact, I should be thanking you. If you hadn't gotten there when you did, and gotten him medical help…" She found it difficult to finish her statement.

"It's just a good thing you got hold of me when _you_ did."

"I was so worried…so worried…" Now the tears came.

Joe felt bad for her. She looked so lost. If he'd known her longer, he would have taken her in his arms to comfort her. But he didn't, so he settled for a comforting hand on both of her shoulders. "Hey, it's okay. He's gonna be all right. Right? Right?"

She finally looked up and smiled, just a tiny smile. "Yeah."

"Don't worry, okay. We'll work this all out."

"Good luck," Alex said. "He kicked me out…"

"Well, he won't kick _me_ out," Joe said confidently. He wouldn't allow it. He did have a certain advantage over Bobby: being handcuffed, Bobby couldn't get to _him_.

xxx

Joe Simon stopped outside of Bobby's door and knocked. Receiving no answer, he entered the room. Eames was right, Robert Goren at the moment did not seem to be doing very well. He was lying in the bed, barely moving. His right hand was on his forehead. Every once in a while a low groan would escape him.

Bobby looked up. He was shocked to see Joe. He really had no interest in seeing anyone, but figured he had no choice with Joe; there was nothing he could say that would make Joe leave.

"What…what're you doing here?" He struggled to sit up, gasping at the pain that shot from his ribs, while his head throbbed. Joe helped him, and got him settled as comfortably as he could.

"Your girl got a hold of me after you were arrested. I'm sure you don't remember," Joe started. "Well obviously you don't. You were barely conscious when I got to the interrogation room, just in time, apparently. Those bastards were beating the shit out of you. We had to rush you to the hospital; you were unconscious for two days."

"Two days? I was out for two days?"

"Yeah, two long days for your partner. She was pretty worried."

"Where is Alex now?"

"Um, it seems you kicked your girl out. Think she went home."

"First off, she's not my 'girl,' she's my partner. And I did not kick her out. I just wanted some…time, to think this out."

Joe dropped it. "Well, here's a little good news for you. You know those cops, Abrams and Richardson?" As if Bobby could forget. "Well, they're behind bars now. Arrested, and awaiting trial themselves. Of course the dumb bastards still deny everything."

Bobby merely nodded.

"So how are you feeling, Bobby? Truthfully?" Joe asked, noticing Bobby's tightly cuffed wrist, which was bruised and somewhat swollen now from tightness and the constant friction.

"Truthfully? I feel like shit. My head feels like it's splitting, and I can't even begin to describe my guts. And it's difficult to breathe…with the ribs."

"They give you anything for the pain?"

"No. I don't think they're in any hurry either. It's their little way of punishing me. I'm already convicted here, you know." Bobby sounded very bitter.

"Are they mistreating you?"

Bobby thought for a minute. "They're not _mis_treating me. The thing is, they're barely treating me at all. So far they haven't given me a thing for pain, nobody's talking to me; I don't even know my own condition."

Joe listened, getting angrier all the time. "Listen, I'll fix it with this hospital staff. They'll start treating you right or I'll slap a lawsuit on them, too. But unfortunately that damn cuff's gotta stay on. Now I'm going to go out there and convince them to give you something for pain. And then, Bobby, I want to hear from you exactly how you got yourself into this mess."

Three days later 

Thanks to Bobby's stay in the hospital, his arraignment was postponed. Just one more in a series of setbacks. Bobby was getting very discouraged; he'd hoped to be out on bail by now. The only visitor Bobby would allow was Joe.

"I've got your arraignment set up for two days from now," Joe announced on one of his visits. "Think you'll be out by then?"

"I don't know," Bobby said angrily. "You'll have to ask my doctors, cause they damn sure aren't telling me anything!"

"What about your pain medicine?" Joe asked. "Are they still giving it to you?"

"They're giving it to me, when they're damn good and ready. Sometimes it takes hours after I ask. The only good thing about this whole affair is that these witches they call nurses are scared to death of me. They stay as far away as possible; guess they think I'm gonna grab one of them and use them to bargain my way out of here." He gave a sarcastic laugh. "That's not to say I haven't thought of it."

"Good to see you haven't lost your sense of humor," Joe replied.

"Yeah, well…"

Just then Joe's cellphone rang.

"Better watch it," Bobby warned. "Next thing you know they'll be confiscating your phone."

Joe laughed, then flipped open his phone. His smile quickly turned to a frown.

"When?" he asked. "Shit." He closed his phone, then turned to Bobby, who was looking at him expectantly.

"What?" Bobby said.

"Those two cops who beat you?" Bobby nodded. "Well, they found them in their cells this morning. They were both dead."

tbc


	7. Chapter 7

By the Book Chapter 7 

"Jesus!" Bobby said, upon hearing the news that the two detectives were dead. He lay back in the bed, devastated. "Somehow, this is going to come back on me," he predicted.

Joe didn't say anything, but the way things seemed to be going Bobby was probably right. _Could this case _possibly_ go any worse?_

Two days later 

Finally, the day of Bobby's arraignment arrived, and he was medically released, but still under arrest in police custody. He wasn't altogether better though, far from it, but good enough to get out of the hospital. His broken ribs hurt like hell, and his wrist was so raw and the bone so bruised he could hardly touch it. But at last he was free of that damn bed.

The courtroom was packed. Somehow, the press had found out about the emails, and they were trying the case in the newspapers. A lot of people were interested in the "Lothario Killer Cop," as the scandal sheets called him. There was a lot of speculation, innuendoes, and preconceived notions and none of it very nice. Deakins and Eames were both there, mainly for support for Bobby, but also to be kept up on what was happening to him first hand.

As Bobby was brought before the judge, he saw both Alex and Deakins sitting in the courtroom. Then he turned away as the judge began to speak.

The honorable Judge Michael O'Toole intoned, "Robert Goren, you are hereby charged with the crime of murder in the first degree. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty." He still never dreamed it would go this far.

Then the prosecutor spoke up. "Your Honor, the state is asking for remand for the accused."

" Remand?" Joe demanded incredulously. "On what grounds? Your Honor, my client has been a respected member of this community for years, and has served this community risking his life daily in the dangerous job of a police detective for over—"

"Your client is also accused of premeditated murder and is implicated in the death of two other police officers. Bail is denied. The accused is remanded to Rikers, where he will be held in isolation to await trial." He banged his gavel, and that was that.

It all finally got to him, and Bobby lost it. Alex and Deakins watched in horror as he started to go for the judge, and all hell broke loose.

"You fucking son of a bitch!" He yelled at the judge. "How much fuckin' money are they paying _you_?" Joe tried unsuccessfully to restrain him, and then the bailiffs joined in.

Alex watched, as if in show motion, as Bobby was brought down, and held down as handcuffs were finally put on the wildly struggling Bobby. She knew the men had to be hurting him; he was already injured, and this was only making it worse. And Bobby was making everything worse.

"Bobby…please…"she whispered, and buried her head in Deakin's shoulder, as Bobby was pulled to his feet. Bobby was finally subdued, and as he was being dragged out of the courtroom and more charges were being levied against him, he caught a glimpse of Alex, with her head still buried in Deakin's shoulder.

_She can't even look at me…_

Bobby was led into another room, where the stark reality of his situation hit him. He was now on trial for his life. He started to panic, his heart was beating wildly. He had the sudden urge to run, to just disappear. But any thoughts he may have entertained along those lines were quickly dispelled, as along with the handcuffs, leg irons were now being applied. There was no longer any chance of escape. They had him, they had him good, and there was absolutely nothing he could do. His life was at stake. And he was scared.

Alex wanted so badly to go to Bobby, just to let him know that she cared. Of course that was out of the question. Bobby was out of reach, to her, to Deakins, to anyone except Joe. There'd be no more fraternization, no talking before or after he was brought to court. Bobby was strictly off limits. Alex had never felt so helpless in her life. And if _she_ felt helpless, how in God's name did Bobby feel?

The next day Alex arrived at work at the usual time, but didn't stop at her desk. She went straight to Deakins' office.

He knew what she wanted before she even asked. Sitting on the corner of his desk, he sighed and said, "You want time off." It wasn't a question.

Surprised, Alex stammered, "Um, yes. I've got vacation time and--"

"You realize this is not our case?"

"Of course I know that. I won't step on anyone's toes. I'll work with Joe, in an unofficial capacity. I just…I just can't not do anything!"

Deakins nodded.

"Captain, I'm so scared…we're not just talking life imprisonment…we're talking about a needle in his arm…" He could see the sheer fright, the _terror_, in her eyes.

"I know that, Alex, I know that." He looked about as frustrated as her. "Take a couple of weeks. Do what you can."

"Thank you Captain."

As Alex left the captain's office, she stopped at her desk to pick up a few personal items. She couldn't help but look at Bobby's desk, and see his empty chair. She missed him already. He was always the one who comforted her, and now…well…The tears welled up again.

She hurriedly picked up her things, and turned and ran smack into Mike and Caroline.

"Alex," Caroline said, "Why don't we go and get some coffee somewhere? We can go to that new Starbucks down the street."

She was so choked up she could hardly speak, so she just nodded okay.

Once at the café, Mike ordered coffee for them all.

"Anything else? Sandwich, cookie?"

"I can't eat, Mike," Alex told him, and Caroline shook her head. "But you guys go ahead."

Logan ordered an early lunch for himself, then brought the three coffees over.

"Here you go, Alex…black and strong, with lots of sugar." Alex took it gratefully, putting both hands around it as if to warm herself even though the day was already hot; it would be in the high nineties in the city today.

Seeing their looks, she said apologetically, "I'm just so cold. And empty… I can't explain it.."

"It's okay, you don't have to," Caroline told her. "We understand. You're scared, for Bobby. And you have every right to be. Do you just want to talk about it?"

And finally, the tears, which had threatened to overflow all morning, did just that.

"It was horrible," Alex sobbed. "You should have seen him yesterday…he was so angry… it was…they had to…" She had to stop for a moment. "They dragged him down again, right to the floor, and he fought them. I know he was hurt. And he was scared…I know he was. He…didn't think I saw it, but I did!"

Mike and Caroline nodded in understanding, and Mike reached over and gave her a little hug, while Caroline put her hand on Alex's arm.

"God! What's going through his mind right now?" Alex continued miserably. "He must feel horrible…scared…like everyone's against him."

Logan shook his head. "I can't imagine it. You're right, Alex, he has to be going out of his mind. You know he's got to be thinking and worrying about those other inmates in there. Christ, it worries _me_ just thinking about it!" His mind couldn't help but go back a few months to when he and Bobby were locked in that prison and the only thing that saved them from being beaten to death was Bobby's quick mind.

"And for something he didn't even do!" Caroline continued angrily.

Their support was helping, and Alex 's tears began to slow down.

"I've got to see him…"

"Do you think he'll let you? He wouldn't let you see him in the hospital," Caroline pointed out.

"I don't know. But he has to! He has to know we're all behind him, and…that we're going to get him out of there! I took some vacation time…to see if I can help Joe."

They both nodded again, and Logan said, "If there's anything we can do… maybe some investigating on our own…?"

"Just stay out of Homicide's way. We don't want to screw this up and jeopardize the case or Bobby in any way."

"You got it, baby," Mike told her, and Caroline said, "Are you going to be alright, Alex?"

Alex smiled through her tears. "Yeah, I guess…I just want to see him, y'know?"

Bobby's first day and night in Rikers was uneventful—there wasn't much he could do but pace and worry, and he was good at both. He felt like a caged animal, pacing back and forth, back and forth. Bobby was already a tormented soul, and had always had too much restless energy. Being cooped up in a small cell like this was already driving him crazy. He continued to pace, long after the lights went out, long into the night. He was almost afraid to sit or lie down on his cot, too afraid to think, to let his guard down. He knew what was on the other side of this prison. There were inmates in this place who'd give their right arms for a crack at him, and he knew it.

Unfortunately for him, the guards weren't much better. Any one of them would give him up in a nano second, given the right incentive. So Bobby, already hyper-vigilant, would have to become even more so. Even though he was in isolation, "protected" from the other inmates, Bobby knew that there were any number of ways they could get to him, if they were so inclined. And gradually, day in and day out, the lack of sleeping, the constant pacing, and the extreme hyper-vigilance would wear him down. And that's when he'd really have to be careful, when he'd be most vulnerable. It'd be a hell of a lot worse than any beating, although that might be a part of it, it could come in any form. And this time it would mean his life.

tbc


	8. Chapter 8

By the Book Chapter 8 

_She can't even look at me_… His own words went around and around in his head. It had to be one of two things: she was either ashamed of him, or she felt sorry for him. Either way, this was the last straw. Bobby had shamed them all, Alex, Deakins, the whole Major Case Squad. Let them down. Especially Alex. It was his own fault. If he had just done things right, by the book, he wouldn't be in this jam. But, as they say, hindsight is 20/20. So here he was, her partner, practically convicted of murder, having the reputation of a loose cannon and being branded by the media as some kind of a deviant sex pervert. The rag mags were having a field day with this, and "Page Six" of the Times was crucifying him. He could hardly face himself, let alone her.

Worst yet would be her pity, feeling sorry for him. And that was something he couldn't handle. That was something he _wouldn't_ handle, because he had no intention of letting her or anyone see him like this.

To make matters worse, the scuffle in the courtroom hadn't done him any good, either. He wasn't just "brought down," he'd been outright tackled, landing on his wrist doing god-knows-what to it, cracking his head, and somehow injuring his ribs even more. Too angry, well, raging at the time, with his adrenaline shy high, he hadn't even realized he'd been injured. He'd angrily refused any medical treatment and didn't receive any, something he was now regretting. His head had been pounding non-stop since he'd been brought in.

One week later, Joe Simon's office

Alex and Joe Simon were in his office discussing Bobby's case.

"I appreciate your helping out like this, Alex," Joe said, handing her a cup of coffee.

Taking it gratefully, Alex told him, "I'm just glad you're letting me and that Captain Deakins gave me the time off. Right now I don't think I could honestly do my job right. I couldn't begin to concentrate, worrying about Bobby. At least this way, knowing I'm doing something to help, makes me feel better and I can concentrate better. I just wish he'd let me in to see him."

Joe shrugged defensively.

"I tried, Alex. He just refuses. This has hurt his pride—a lot. I don't think he can face anyone right now, least of all you."

"I know it's hurt him, mentally and physically. But I have to see him, to let him know how I feel. And how I _don't_ feel," she added, referring to the shame she knew Bobby attributed to her. "I'll tell you what _you_ can tell him: when he does get out, and he will, I'm going to kick his ass big time for this!"

Joe had to grin. "Okay, I will. Alright now, what's your plan of action?"

"First I want to go back to that hotel where it all happened, and just check things out a little. Maybe talk to some of the hotel staff."

"Good idea. Let me know how that goes. I'm going to talk to Bobby again. See if there's possibly anything else he can remember."

Alex nodded. "Okay, I'll check with you later."

Rikers 

Bobby felt like he was going crazy. Being cooped up in that small cell, in isolation, (necessary to keep him out of harm's way) was making him stir-crazy. He was pacing as usual, much to the annoyance of the guard assigned to him. He only got out of the cell long enough to get a little daily exercise, alone, with the exception of the armed guard watching him, and for the occasional meeting with his lawyer.

He was becoming more and more discouraged. He was convinced he was set-up, and the evidence they had on him was overwhelming. He also figured that whoever set him up had the wherewithal to follow it through, and get him convicted. And he would be convicted, of that he was sure. What was really the point of going through all the trouble of a trial when the result was pre-determined? The thought of spending the rest of his life in prison was terrifying, especially since his life expectancy, as a cop, would be less than six months in the general population. Or at best, isolation for the rest of his life.

He thought again of trying to escape. It was a near impossible feat, to actually get free of this place, and even harder to stay free. But it could be done; he was smart and if anyone could do it, he could. And if he got caught, what could they do to him? Tack more years on to his life with no parole sentence? Put an extra dose in his lethal injection? The only thing that could go wrong would be for him to be shot while trying to escape… And maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea. He'd still be dead, but faster and easier that way than at the hands of vengeful inmates.

Death might just be the only way out of his misery.

_Later that day_

Joe Simon had arranged for a meeting with Bobby for later that afternoon. As the guard brought Bobby to the conference room and removed the cuffs (he had grown to hate those cuffs) Joe saw absolutely no emotion on Bobby's face. That was not a good sign.

"How's it going, Bobby?" Joe asked, to break the ice.

Bobby just stared at him.

"Are they treating you alright?"

"If you mean, have they beaten me lately? No, they haven't. And yeah, I'm fine."

Joe sighed. "Well, that's good then. How are your ribs?"

"Fine," Bobby lied. The truth was, every breath he took hurt like hell. No matter what position he was in he couldn't get comfortable.

"Have you been to see a doctor?"

"What for? So they can push, poke and prod, then tell me there's nothing they can do?"

Joe was getting frustrated. "So they can fucking give you a pill, okay?"

Bobby was quiet for a moment.

"You remember in the hospital when they took their time getting me any meds? Well, I got them, however long it took. Here they tell me they can't give me a fucking aspirin without the doctor's okay. And somehow, the doctor's never available."

"I'm sorry, Bobby," Joe said sincerely.

"Doesn't matter anyway."

Joe looked confused. "What doesn't matter? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Nothing."

Joe stared at him for a minute.

"Well, here's some good news for you. Since you can't investigate this yourself, your partner Alex is doing some investigating for me. Maybe we'll get you out of this yet."

He thought he saw a flicker of light in Bobby's eyes at the mention of Alex's name, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

"She wants to see you, Bobby…bad."

"No." Bobby stood up, and banged on the door. "Guard!"

Joe got really pissed. "What the fuck is your problem! We got everybody—"

"Don't think I'll be needing your services any more, Joe," Bobby said, as once more they applied the handcuffs to him, and led him away.

"Bobby!" Joe sat there, in shock.

And Bobby, once alone in his cell again, lay on his cot, facing the wall. And tears came to his eyes. Tears for himself, and tears for the people who did love him, and would miss him.

xxxx

Assistant Chief of Detectives Mark Connelly put down the newspaper with a sigh. He'd just read the latest on the pre-trial goings on with that detective, Robert Goren. That guy's life had gone to hell in a handshake. Sometimes he felt a little guilty, as well he should. He tried to put it out of his mind; the wheels were already turning, there was nothing he could do now, things had gone way too far.

There was a family dinner going on with Mark and his wife Sarah, along with their two children, Jake and Moira, and Moira's husband and children. But Mark could not enjoy it, as much as he tried to keep his mind off that cop, he couldn't. The only things he found any pleasure in these days were his two small grandchildren. Certainly not his son.

As if on cue, Jake picked up the a week old newspaper, one his father had saved. Only he smirked. "Did you read about that cop, Dad? Stupid fucker!"

"Jake!" his mother admonished, "the grandchildren!"

"Oh, sorry, Mom," he said sarcastically. "You think they don't hear that crap all day long? You think they don't **_say_** that crap all day long?"

"Jake…" his father said warningly.

Jake ignored the warning. "Anyway, that stupid fucker actually tried to go for the judge! How freaking stupid can you get? They ought to—"

"Shut up, Jake!" This wasn't a warning, there was a threat in his voice. "Just shut the hell up." Then, to the rest of the family, "You can all just eat. I'll be…I'm not hungry…" He kissed his grandchildren and left the room.

Moira glared at her brother. "Why do you always have to upset him like that?"

"I was just telling him about one of his dumb-ass cops—"

"Jake, that's enough," his mother told him, then apologized to Moira and her husband. "I'm sorry, Moira, Eric. Your father, um, Mark, for some reason is really upset about this… this detective. He's been following this story since the beginning, and everyday it seems to bother him more. He takes it hard when one of his men goes bad. I…don't understand what would make a cop go bad like that?"

"Could be any reason," her son-in-law said, not really all that interested. "I'm hungry. Can we just eat, please?

Eric may not have been interested, but Jake was. Was his father going soft on him? Nothing good could come of that. Now it was Jake who had something to worry about.

tbc


	9. Chapter 9

By the Book Chapter 9

Victorian Hotel, NYC

Arriving at the Victorian Hotel, Alex went to the floor where the late Nicole Wallace had once occupied a room. It was still morning, and the housekeeping staff was busy.

Alex walked up to a young woman gathering clean sheets, getting ready to enter another room.

"Miss?" Alex called. The woman stopped. "Can I speak to you for just a moment?" She held up her badge.

"Ma'am?" She looked nervous.

"I was just wondering. Were you working here the day that woman, Nicole Wallace, was killed?"

"Yes, ma'am," the woman replied. "But I swear I didn't say anything!"

"What do you mean, say anything? About what?"

"I never said a word to anyone, just like you said."

"I know," Alex said, playing along. "I've just been brought into this investigation. I'd appreciate it if you could help me out a little."

The woman was extremely relieved to find out she was not in trouble.

"Of course. Whatever I can do."

"Okay. First, what did you mean when you said you never said a word, like we said."

"Well, after they arrested that one man, I believe he's a cop…er, a policeman, other policemen questioned the whole staff on this floor."

"And?"

"Well, they said they had the goods on this guy, and that if we spoke to _anyone_ about this, we could jeopardize the whole case. We weren't supposed to even mention that other man, because it would cast…doubt? Yeah, it would cast doubt on their case, and then any of us could be prosecuted."

Alex's heart did a little leap of joy.

"Well, then you all did good, I guess," she said, still playing the game. "Because no one ever heard a word about the other man."

The woman smiled, proud of herself.

Alex continued. "But we do need some information, for the record, you know. What can you tell me about this other man?"

The woman thought for a bit.

"Well, he was, well, younger than the cop, I think. And I know he was blond, very nice looking."

"Did you happen to catch a name?" Alex asked hopefully.

"No. Wait. Well, not a whole name, but I think I heard her call him 'Jake' once, when she was mad at him. But not a last name."

"Well, thank you very much, Miss,.?"

"Olgivey, Julie Olgivey."

"Well, thanks again, Miss Olgivey." Then, in a move reminiscent of Bobby Goren, she had one more question. "Oh, one more thing…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Alex Eames was furious. Arriving back in Joe's office, she'd just received the news that Bobby had fired Joe.

"**_He_** cannot fire you! **_I'm_** the one who hired you!"

"Well he did," Joe said. "Just got up, called for the guard and left."

"Well, we'll see about that," Alex said grimly. "He thinks I'm

tough little Alex now? He ain't seen nothing yet!"

She picked up the keys and started for the door.

"You going to be all right to drive?" Joe asked. "Want me to come along?"

"Come if you want. But I'm going to see him first, alone. After I'm done with him, then you can have what's left of him."

Rikers

"Goren! Get up!" the guard ordered him. Bobby had just lain down, after hours of pacing, his nerves frazzled. "You've got a visitor."

He figured it would be Alex. "Tell her to go home."

"Get up!" the guard ordered again. "The police want to question you again."

Fuck! That's the last thing he wanted to do now, but he had no choice. He sighed and got up off the cot and went to the door of his cell, where the guard waited outside to cuff him. For a fleeting second the thought occurred to him to try to overcome this guard. Just as quickly as it came, the thought vanished. There's no way it'd work; there was no escaping this place. They proceeded on down to the conference room. 

Entering the room he saw Alex.

"What, Alex? There's nothing--"

Immediately Alex lit into him, catching her big partner off guard and shoving him backwards (just barely avoiding his injured ribs), and before he knew it she unleashed a viciousslap to his face, practically knocking him into the wall, and wouldn't let up. He finally grabbed her hands to stop her from beating the crap out of him.

"What the hell?" He didn't like being hit in the face one bit. "Dammit, Eames!"

"Shut up," Alex said, tears stinging her eyes. She jerked her hands free. "Just shut the hell up!" She waited until she calmed down some, then continued.

"I can't believe you're giving up like this, Bobby! That is not you! Why! What the hell do you think you're doing?" She never gave him a chance to answer. "Do you think you're the only one affected by this, you bastard?"

He just looked at her. "No. But it's _my_ life that's on the line."

"Well your life affects my life! It affects Deakins' life! It affects Lewis, it affects Carver, it affects—"

"I get your point."

"Do you Bobby? Do you really? Because for somebody so smart sometimes you can be pretty stupid!"

He winced a little at that, and after a moment sighed. "Seems like a lot of trouble to go through to try to keep me alive, only to have me convicted of a crime I didn't commit, so they can kill me legally. Not a great outlook." He looked miserable.

"That is _not_ going to happen!" Alex said heatedly.

"C'mon, Alex, at least be honest with me about this. They've got everything they need to get me convicted. Fingerprints, motive—and me all over her fucking body! And as if that wasn't enough, they've got somebody out there pulling some pretty powerful strings to lay this on me. Again, not a great outlook."

Alex understood why Bobby felt this way, and she did empathize; he was in an extremely tight situation. But she wasn't about to let up on him.

"So that's it?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"What?" he said, confused.

"So that's it? It's over? What are you planning to do now, Bobby? Kill yourself? Cause if that's what you want—"

"It's _not_ what I want," he said softly, lowering himself into a chair, running his hands through his hair. Then he lowered his forehead into his hands. "I just…I don't…I don't know what to think anymore. I don't know what to _feel_ anymore!"

He looked up at her with big puppy dog eyes. "They got everything, Alex. My life. My freedom. My pride. Even my girlfriend. I've brought so much shame down on myself, on you as my partner, and the whole department. I can't even face you. I've got nothing left, Alex."

"So you're just giving up? Are you giving up on me, too, Bobby? On our partnership?"

He looked at her sharply. "No. Of course not!"

She walked over to him and gently took his face in her hands, looking into his eyes.

"Do you remember a while back, when you said you were lucky I withdrew the letter I wrote years ago asking for a new partner?"

He nodded.

"Well, Bobby, the truth of the matter is that **_I'm_** the lucky one. I partnered up with the smartest, most caring man I've ever known, and that was the smartest thing _I_ ever did. I've learned an incredible amount from you, and together we have the highest solve rate of anyone in Major Case, and probably the whole NYPD. I want you to know that I am proud to be your partner, and I will always be proud of you. There's nothing you could do to cause me to lose that pride in you."

He lowered his eyes, a little embarrassed, a little shy, but still very flattered.

Alex smiled a little. "You may be a little unorthodox in your ways, but you're the best thing to happen to the NYPD in a hundred years. We're both a little strange, you, well, because you're you, and me for sticking it out with you in spite of it—or maybe _because_ of it—"

"Wait," Bobby said, with just a slight hint of humor, "if this is your idea of a pep talk…"

Alex was just happy to hear even a small amount of humor coming from him.

But Bobby was all serious again. "I appreciate all you're saying, but it's just not that simple. It's not you, Alex, and it's not our partnership. I love all that. It's… what's happening to me now. I'm…sorry. I just can't see any light at the end of the tunnel."

He definitely had a point. As much as she wanted to fix everything for him, she realized that, as nice as they were, it was going to take a lot more than words to do it. It was going to require action.

"Bobby, we have a lead."

He looked up. "What?"

"There's a lead," she repeated. "I went to the Victorian Hotel today, and I spoke with some of the staff, Bobby. There was another man there."

He already knew that much. He knew he didn't kill her, so it had to be someone else. The question was "who."

"Go on," Bobby said.

"I only got a first name. But they said they might be able to identify him if they saw him again. And Latent's already working on lifting prints from the places he hung out at in the hotel."

"What do you think?" Bobby asked.

Alex shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, Bobby. It just depends. But it's a start."

Bobby stood up, pacing a little. It _was_ a lead. If it panned out, a damn good one. But if it didn't…

He stood in the corner, thinking, and Alex took advantage of it.

"Bobby, this is our first real lead. I think maybe a good one. And **_that_** is light at the end of that tunnel. So I'm asking you to just hang on a little longer…to have faith in me and our partnership. I promised you once before Bobby, and I'll say it again. I will get you cleared of this. And that is a promise. Will you do that for me?"

Bobby still had serious doubts about the case. But not in Alex. She was giving it her all, so he would give her this.

"Okay, Alex," he said. "On one condition."

"And what's that?"

"That you don't hit me again." He rubbed a hand over his face. "Damn, Eames, you hit me harder than Connie ever did!"

Alex grinned at him. "You bet your sweet ass I did!" Then she left to work more with Joe, who technically still was her lawyer.

Lying on his cot that night, Bobby thought about the events of the day. He still wasn't convinced at all that he'd be cleared, or that somehow the inmates or guards wouldn't get to him. He'd have these worries until the day he was released, and he had serious doubts of that ever happening. Nothing had changed physically. He was still miserable being incarcerated, and still taking crap and verbal abuse from the guards. But Alex had accomplished something. She'd made him promise to hang on, and he would not break his promise to her. And there _was_ just that very tiny light…

tbc

A/N This was a difficult chapter to write. I wanted to start Bobby on his way back, but slowly, just a small chink in his armor. Special thanks to TriStatecopFan for her helpful comments.


	10. Chapter 10

By the Book Chapter 10

Spoilers for Criminal Intent Season 2 episode "Anti-Thesis"

Warning for language

Well at least Alex could breathe a little easier on one count. Bobby had promised to hang in there for a while, and she knew she could count on him to keep his word whether he wanted to or not. That was Bobby, he was nothing if not true to his word. But that was just one part of it. She still worried about the investigation itself, if they could come up with the right evidence and in time, and whether or not Bobby would survive the inmates.

She couldn't help but wonder about Bobby in that place. He must be going crazy, locked up in that little cell all day and all night. No one to talk to except a guard who'd either ignore him or worse yet probably just mess with his mind. What did he think about all day? Whatever it was it had to be even worse at night, when his demons normally came out. How bad were those demons now? And was he scared? Anyone would be. Her imagination was running wild, thinking about him and what he was going through. But she finally had to stop, she couldn't dwell on that and still concentrate on the job of freeing him. And Bobby was no doubt dwelling on it enough for the both of them.

Tomorrow she'd check in with latent, and see if they came up with anything to match to Nicole's mysterious boyfriend, and then check in with Deakins to find out the latest on his part.

Rikers, that night 

Ever since Eames had left that day, Bobby couldn't get Nicole's boyfriend, or rather the fact that he officially now existed, out of his mind. He'd always known someone had been in the room before him, but now the idea that he could possibly be identified excited him. Of course knowing and identifying this man and proving he was the killer were two different things; they still had him, Bobby, over the body. But at least now there might be reasonable doubt. And that was a big thing.

At the beginning of all this Bobby had never dreamed it would all go down like this, he figured it would all be straightened out in no time, his reputation intact. He would never have settled on being released because of reasonable doubt, he'd want his reputation untarnished, there to be no doubts of his innocence. But now? All he wanted was to be free, however it came about. It was another restless night.

Xxxxxxxx

The next day Joe Simons showed up again, and once again Bobby was led into the interview room.

"I assume, from what I gather from your partner, that I'm still your lawyer? Or I guess technically, her lawyer, but…"

Bobby wandered around the room, which was somewhat bigger than his cell. It felt good to stretch his long legs a little. "I'm sorry, Joe. I'm…stressed. Christ! I've been accused of murder! I've had the crap beaten out of me, and I'm looking at life in prison, providing of course that I escape the death penalty. So yeah, I'm stressed. I'm also…sorry. Besides, Eames and I have a deal."

"What deal is that?"

Bobby looked sheepish. "The deal is, I keep _you_ on, she lets _me_ live."

Joe couldn't help but smile. "Okay then, let's go over a few more things."

He finally got Bobby to sit down and over the course of a couple of hours they discussed various points and strategies of the case.

"Okay," Joe said at one point. "I'm sure the D.A. will go into this next point and I don't want any surprises. So I have to ask you this…"

Bobby looked at him quizzically. "Ask me what?"

Despite the fact that Joe was nearly as big as Bobby, he pushed his seat just a tad out of Bobby's immediate reach. "Were you ever…um…intimate with Nicole?"

"WHAT?"

"Calm down!" Joe said with more than a little authority in his voice. He knew he'd have to get a little tough to keep Bobby from getting defensive and losing his focus. "It's bound to come up, it's one of the reasons you're in this mess to begin with!"

Then, very calmly, came Bobby's answer. "There is no way in hell I was _ever_ intimate with her."

"Good," Joe nodded. "You're sure?"

Bobby stared at him for a second. "I think I'd remember if I fucked the brains out of a pathological serial killer."

Joe looked as stupid as he felt. "Uh, what I meant was, was there anything else? Were you attracted to her?"

"No."

"Not at all? Ever? C'mon, Bobby, I've seen pictures of her_. I'd_ be attracted to her!"

"You should have been a D.A." Bobby muttered.

Joe wouldn't allow himself a smile. "Answer the question, Bobby. Were you or were you not attracted to her? And think carefully about the answer."

Bobby thought about the question, hard, elbows resting on the table, head in hands, occasionally running his hands through his curly hair. Had he been attracted to Nicole? No. As he told Joe, she was a pathological serial killer who had no heart. How could anyone be attracted to something so cold like that? Then he thought back to the first time that he'd met her. She hadn't seemed so cold and heartless then…

_Elizabeth/Nicole-- "Well everyone knows that academics are all talk and no action."_

_Bobby—"Does that include you?"_

_E/N—"If it did, I would have stayed in my cozy little office on Manor Road, lecturing women's writing and uh, punting on the Cherwell on weekends."_

_B—(smiling)"No skinny dipping in Parson's Pleasure?"_

_E/N—(a short laugh) "Very good, Detective. Did you memorize the Oxford tour guide on your way here?"_

_B— "No. (slightly embarrassed laugh) No, I spent a couple weeks there once…chasing coeds…"_

_E/N—( flirting) "Took you that long to catch one? I'm shocked!"_

_B—"That's_ _very_ _funny, Professor. Does Mark Bailey find you… funny?_

Definite flirting. Was it all part of the game they were each playing? Or was there some real attraction there at first, even a little? And some weeks later, in interrogation…

_Bobby—"When I met you, you wanted me to know who you truly were, how smart, how funny, how charming you are. You wanted me to know you, Nicole Wallace, the sparkling little girl who survived horrible abuse with her wits intact."_

_She wanted me to know her_…_She was attracted to me,_ and--oh god!--he had been attracted to her, too.

"Bobby?"

He looked up at Joe. "I…I was attracted to her. A little. At first." His words were hardly more than a whisper.

Joe looked at him in concern. "It's okay, Bobby. It's out in the open. We can work around it now. We can build a defense—we just don't want them to spring anything on us. Did it go any further than attraction?"

"No! Well, not on my part. Eames always thought she had a thing for me, a love/hate thing. But whatever it was, love or hate, she turned it into complete and total hate. Which brings us to my current situation. She's been trying to get to me for years, and she finally did it. It took her dying to do it, and I'm sure she never planned it this way, but she did it. I'm convinced she's laughing her ass off at me now, just waiting for me to join her in hell."

Given what he'd already learned about Nicole, Joe had to agree.

_That same night_

All these latest developments had him more restless than usual, he was up and down all night, really getting on the night guard's nerves. He didn't particularly want anything to do with his charges, and he damn sure didn't want to be bothered by them in any way.

"Goren!" he said angrily. "Why don't you just knock it the hell off and lay down before I chain you to the fucking bed!"

Bobby ignored him.

Finally the guard was forced to get off his lazy ass, and lumbered his way over to Bobby's cell.

"Did you hear—"

"Fuck you."

"Yeah, you listen to me, smart guy," the guard hissed at him. "You think you're so fuckin' smart? Well you're gonna find out real soon that smarts don't get you nowhere in here." He looked Bobby up and down. "I think maybe you're the one who's gonna get fucked. Up one side and down the other." He was sneering now. "And that ain't half the shit they got planned for you. Y'know, sometimes things happen, like some night the door to your cell is 'accidentally' left unlocked for the inmates. I hear things, ya know, and what I hear is…well, eight or ten guys…there ain't gonna be a whole lot left when they get done with you."

"Now **_you_** listen to me," Bobby said, in an eerily calm voice. "I don't have any doubt at all that you guys can take me down. If you're gonna do it, you're gonna do it. But I guarantee you that I'm taking one of you down with me, and I figure it might as well be _you_."

The guard kind of stared at him for a second or so. There was no doubt in _his_ mind that Bobby would do as he promised.

"And another thing," Bobby continued. "I don't know what, if anything, you're getting out of this…money or whatever it is, it won't be worth it. You think I'm smart? You don't know the half of it. And my partner? She's smart, too. We have the highest solve rate in the NYPD for a reason. And my partner's tenacious. She's gonna be watching you like a hawk. If your lifestyle suddenly changes for the better, she's going to be on you like flies on shit. You'll be sitting on that money forever. Forget that new car or that new wide screen tv, if you so much as get a new bike for your kid, she'll be at you till the day you die.

And if anything should happen to me, you're the one going down for it, we've already talked about that. You know how they phonied up all this evidence on me? Well the NYPD can do that, too, and a lot better than they did. And then, guess what? You'll be sitting in this very same cell as me, right at the bottom of the foodchain, cause as I'm sure you know prison guards are only one step up from cops. They'll be wanting you nearly as much as they want me. So if you know of anything going down, you'd be a lot better off telling them that the time just isn't right yet. _Bottom of the foodchain_," he repeated.

"Yeah, well we'll see," he said lamely, but Bobby could see the uncertainty in his eyes as he went back to his little nook.

Bobby watched him for a little bit, then went and sat on his cot. He always knew the threat existed, but to hear it finally verbalized was downright mind numbingly scary. Prisoners would always want to take out a cop, that was a given, but a high-profile one like the Major Case Squad's Detective Bobby Goren would be an extra big notch in someone's belt, even more so if it was particularly ugly. He wondered if his own threat would buy him any time. Another quick glance at the guard, who was now doing his own pacing, told him it did.

Tbc

A/N The conversation in italics with quotation marks between Bobby and Nicole was taken from the Criminal Intent episode "Anti-Thesis" Season 2.


	11. Chapter 11

By the Book Chapter 11 

Warning---for _implied_ sexual violence, in thought.

Alex was eagerly looking over Charley Brigg's shoulder as he pulled the papers containing the fingerprint information from a folder.

"Here you go," he told her. "Hope this helps. Mostly I got smudges and a few partials, but there are a couple of complete ones. Some of them look pretty interesting."

Alex looked them over.

"A couple of these guys have priors? You're right, interesting."

She continued looking over the papers. "I'm going to have to check these guys out."

"Did you notice that one?" Charley pointed to a particular name on the paper.

"J.M. Connelly…is that someone I should know?"

"Only if you're on a first name basis with the Assistant Chief of Detectives."

"J. M. Connelly…Connelly? Oh, shit! That isn't--?"

"None other. His son." Charley was looking pretty proud of himself.

"_He's_ got priors too?" Alex was surprised.

"Yep. For small stuff, mainly drunk and disorderly, a couple of d.u.i.'s. But never spent a night in jail. Heard that his father once got him out of a bigger jam a few years back. Must be nice, huh?"

"Unbelievable." It pissed Alex off, but she was used to hearing about special considerations for certain individuals. "Poor Bobby gets his ass thrown in jail for something he _doesn't_ do, and this jerk does all kinds of crap and never even sees the inside of a cell." She shook her head. "Ah, well, think I'll go and see what I can dig up on these guys."

"Hey, say 'hi' to Bobby for me," Charley called after her. "Tell him we're all pulling for him. And tell him to watch himself."

"Will do. He'll be glad for the support." Alex headed up to the eleventh floor.

Once on the eleventh floor she hooked up Logan and they spent the next hour going over the records of the people on the report.

After a little bit Logan snorted and held one up. "This guy, he's a real piece of work."

"Who's that?" Alex asked, staring at her own file.

"This guy, Jake Connelly."

Alex continued looking at her list. "Yeah, Charley told me about him." She raised her head, as something slowly began to dawn on her.

"What did you call him?"

"Jake. J.M. Connelly, known as Jake. He's one guy I wish I would've punched out. A regular asshole."

"Jake? They call him Jake?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Logan, it's him!"

"Him, who? Eames, you've lost—"

"Jake. The woman at the hotel—she said she thought Wallace called him Jake!"

Logan stared at her for a second. "No kidding? Wanna go have a little chat with this guy?"

"Let's bring him up on the computer first."

Alex punched in the pertinent information, and before long a picture of J.M. (Jake) Connelly appeared.

"Big and blond," Alex said triumphantly. "Just like she said. Let's go have that little chat."

Jake's last known was still at his parents' house, having never lived anywhere long enough to get his own address.

"Is this weird or what?" Logan said, as they walked up the drive to the steps and knocked on the door. "Hopefully the old man doesn't throw our asses in jail, too, just for the hell of it."

As he was finishing his sentence, none other than the Assistant Chief of Detectives opened the door himself, obviously hearing Logan's statement. He stared at them for a minute, then asked, "Something I should know about, Detective? Is there something I should be arresting you for?"

"Uh…no sir. Just—"

"Sir, we've come in regards to your son, Jake," Alex finished.

Now Mrs. Connelly was at the door.

"Is Jake okay?" she asked anxiously.

"As far as we know he's fine, ma'am. We're just here to ask him a few questions concerning a uh, murder that he may have witnessed."

"Jake? I don't think so; he never said a thing about a murder."

_No he probably wouldn't; why draw attention to it?_

"If you could just let us know where he works or hangs out?" Logan asked.

"Well he works part-time at Webber's service station in Queens, and sometimes he and his friends like to play pool at some of the pubs near there," Mrs. Connelly told them. "Like I said, I doubt he knows anything, but you can try. Good luck, detectives." She more or less brushed them off and went back into the house. Mark Connelly looked at them like he'd seen a ghost.

"Um…are you alright, Sir?" Alex asked.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Just the…uh… lingering after effects of a cold. Good day, detectives." Then he was gone also.

"Wow. They were helpful," Logan said disgustedly.

"Well at least we've got a start on Jake."

Once the door was closed, Mrs. Connelly looked with concern at her husband.

"Mark? Mark, what is it?"

"It's…nothing. I'm just not feeling well…" He went upstairs to the bedroom, as his wife watched helplessly. There was definitely something wrong with her husband.

**O'Reilly's Pub, Queens**

Eames and Logan covered quite a few bars that afternoon, showing Jake's picture around, before a barmaid finally directed them to the dart boards near the back, where about six men of varying ages and drunkeness were gathered.

"Jake Connelly?" Eames asked.

Jake looked her over. "Who's asking?"

Logan and Eames both held up their badges.

"I'm Detective Eames, this is Detective Logan. We'd like a word with you."

"Yeah, well I'm a little busy right now." He turned back to the dart board and to his waiting, snickering friends.

"What are they, teenagers?" Logan asked in a mocking voice. Then he grabbed Jake by the collar. "We can do it here, or we can do it downtown. Your choice."

Jake's demeanor changed abruptly. "Hey, I'm sorry," he said, trying to wriggle his collar free. "I'm just trying to get in a little downtime, you know, what with job stress, home—"

"Oh, you mean all the stress you get from pumping gas part time at that little dried up station where you work?"

Jake normally would have taken offense, but wisely chose not to. "Well, I know it's nothing like the stress you guys get on your job, but it has its moments." He laughed nervously.

"We still need to ask you a few questions," Alex told him. "That is, if you're not too 'busy'."

"Sure, anything I can do to help. Shoot. Uh, no pun intended." He again laughed nervously at his own joke.

The two detectives apparently didn't think it was too funny, both scowling at him. "Where were you on the night of the 27th?"

"I don't know, who the hell keeps track of that shit?"

"That's it! We're going back to the station—" Logan grabbed him by the collar again.

"No, wait! Just let me think about it for a minute…"

"You're down to thirty seconds," Alex told him.

"Okay, okay, I was probably here."

"_Probably?_ From what time?"

"Um, right after work, I guess, till close."

"Anybody with you?" Logan asked, "Besides these derelicts?"

Jake bristled. "No. Just these guys, and maybe the barkeep."

The detectives looked past Jake to his friends, giving them a hard look.

"Anyone here willing to swear, under oath, that he was here all night?"

Jake's friends all began to back off, making their excuses.

"That's what I thought," Logan said, grabbing Jake by the collar for the third time.

Alex sighed. "Looks like it's back to our place after all."

Jake started to struggle, then suddenly stopped. He had nothing to worry about. He had his Dad to bail him out.

_**Riker's**_

Bobby and the guard were in a standoff. His threat had really affected the other man. The guard, Lennie Sanders, was about as big as Bobby, but he had no doubt that Bobby could take him down, and given that it would certainly be a desperate situation, the odds favored Bobby even more. And Bobby had sworn he'd be the first one to he'd take down. Not that it would help the cop any, with the number of guys involved in this, that cop was done for anyway. Sanders was actually looking forward to seeing it, he didn't like Goren anyway. He figured Goren was a typical cocky, arrogant cop, and like any cop, needed to be taken down a few notches. He knew exactly what they'd do to him.

But there was that other part of it. He was supposed to get some big money for setting Goren up, but if he'd never see any of it…shit! He'd still have to go through with it, though, or he might find himself in the same situation as the cop. Plus it's possible he could be implicated in all of this. So he was a loser all around, something else he was familiar with.

And Bobby knew he was still in trouble. It was still just a matter of time, his threat to the guard could only hold them off for so long. Eventually the inmates would demand he be turned over to them, and, under threat for his own life, the guard would comply. Bobby couldn't help but think about what they would do to him, too. He had a pretty good idea, thanks to Sanders, and it wasn't pretty. It'd start with him being sodomized with a broken broomstick, followed by a bone-crushing beating, then being sliced up with a few homemade knives. And _then_ they'd kill him. That's what they'd do to cop, particularly one who'd help send a few of them to this very place. It scared the hell out of him. And there was absolutely nothing he could do; he couldn't get away, not locked up in a cell. He was a sitting duck.

The way Sanders would look at him, pace a bit, then look some more at him gave Bobby reason to think it wasn't far off.

1 Police Plaza 

After arriving back at the squad room, they left Jake in interrogation as Alex, Logan and Deakins watched him from the observation room.

"So you think this mutt's the guy?" Deakins asked.

"I'd bet a week's pay it is." Alex seemed very sure of herself.

"If it is him then we've got a very tough situation," Deakins said grimly. It means it's his father pulling the strings. His father has a lot of influence over a lot of people. And that could be a real problem."

tbc


	12. Chapter 12

By the Book Chapter 12 

Watching Jake nervously fidget in the interrogation room, Deakins shook his head.

"I just can't see Mark Connelly doing this, sending Bobby, or any of his detectives, up the river like this."

"Not even for his own kid?" Logan asked.

"I don't know. But if he is, it's gonna be tough proving it."

"Why?" Alex demanded. "We've got his prints—"

"At the _gym_ and in the _elevator,"_ Deakins said grimly. "There's nothing in the apartment. Whoever got there first conveniently did away with those."

"Well, we've still got the maid who can identify him being there…"

"Whether or not he was there is still up for grabs," Deakins said, frustrated, "Bobby was the one found over the body!"

Alex was angry. "So, what? We just give up on this guy, and let Bobby go down for this? Whose side are you on, anyway?"

Now Deakins was angry. "Of course I don't want Bobby going down for this! I'm just telling you—you need more! What you have now isn't enough!"

"Okay, '_Carver'_, " Alex said sarcastically.

Deakins sighed. "Alex…"

"Bottom line, Captain, is that that is all we've got for now. I…don't know how long Bobby is going to last in there…we have to have a go at this guy."

Deakins studied Jake a little longer. "Then step into him."

Logan and Alex walked back into the interrogation room. Alex looked at him.

"Jacob is it? They call you Jake?"

"Yeah," Jake said suspiciously, "my friends do."

"Well, we're your friends, Jake," Logan told him.

_Seriously doubt that._ "So is there something I can help you with, Officers?" He sounded bored.

"Yes," Alex said. "You can answer a few more questions for us. First do you know a Nicole Wallace?"

"Nicole…uh, Wallace? No, can't say that I do."

"No? Really? We seem to have a few witnesses who say they saw you coming out of her hotel room. They said they could identify you in a lineup."

This took Jake by surprise. _I thought this was all taken care of?_ "Oh, that Nicole. I never knew her last name, I only knew her very casually. Hell, everybody did! She was a slut, a whore! Half the city was sleeping with her. Even that dumb cop who was stupid enough to kill her for it—"

Eames practically shot out of her chair, grabbing Jake by the front of his shirt. "That 'dumb cop' happens to be my partner, you fucker!" Logan had to pull her off of Jake to keep her from scratching his eyes out.

Eames was furious. "That 'dumb cop' just happens to be the smartest cop in the NYPD!"

"Well, if he's so smart, how come he's the one in jail?"

"It's just your _dumb_ luck and his bad luck that he's sitting in that jail cell now, because if he wasn't he'd have nailed your ass to the wall a long time ago. As long as it took us to catch up with you, it would've taken him a third of the time!"

"I…I want a lawyer," Jake mumbled.

"A lawyer?" Logan asked sarcastically. "Why don't we just cut the middle man and call Daddy directly?"

"I want a lawyer. Now. I'm not saying nothin' else."

"You'll get your damn lawyer," Alex said. She got right in his face. "But I'm gonna let you in on a little secret. If anything happens to my partner while he's in custody—_anything!_—if they so much as touch a hair on his head, I'm personally coming after you for it, and by the time I'm finished with you you're gonna be talking in a falsetto. And you won't need a lawyer, you'll be needing an undertaker. And that is a promise."

Jake just stared at her. And after a while Jake got his phone call. Almost immediately after receiving his phone call, a lawyer seemed to materialize out of nowhere, and once again Jake was a free man.

_Rikers, same day_

They waited, watching silently while the guard uncuffed Bobby, and then left.

"Get me out of here." Bobby said it softly, but it came through like he'd never meant anything more in his entire life.

Both Alex and Joe stared at him. "We're trying, Bobby. We've got a pretty good lead—"

"No. Not in a few weeks, NOW!" He sat down heavily in a chair, totally exhausted. All his hyper vigilance and lack of sleep was finally getting to him. He put his elbows on the table, and rested his head wearily in his hands.

Alex looked at him suspiciously. "Bobby, did they do something to you?"

Bobby raised his eyes to look at her, then lowered them again.

"No," he said quietly. "If they did, I wouldn't be here to talk about it. But it is going to happen, and soon, probably tonight, or tomorrow. And when they do, it's going to be…rough."

"What's going on, Bobby?" Joe asked.

"They…told me what they were going to do…"

Alex and Joe both knew jailhouse threats had to be taken seriously

—particularly where a cop was concerned. It was the real thing.

"Bobby, tell me everything they said, verbatim," Joe said. "I'll go back to the judge today and try to get you moved."

Bobby looked at Alex. He would never want her to know how he'd been threatened, the horrible things they planned to do to him. But the thought of the pain and torture he would endure only to be killed in the end anyway far outweighed his initial reluctance to tell her. So still with that certain amount of reluctance he repeated what the guard had told him.

"He said that some time in the middle of the night, this week, for sure, they'd come to my cell and he'd happily unlock it for them."

"Did he say who?"

"No. No names, just that there would be more than a few of them, guys that I'd had a hand in putting in here in the first place, guys who had it in for me anyway."

He stopped, and Joe encouraged him to go on.

Bobby continued, his head once again in his hands, looking down. "For chrissake! They're gonna take a goddamn broomstick, break it in half and fuck me with the broken end!"

Alex closed her eyes, turning away. Bobby might occasionally go off verbally on a perp, but he was basically non-violent, even reluctant to use his gun if he didn't have to. The idea of anyone, let alone a gang of them, doing something this violent and depraved to her gentle partner was unfathomable.

She heard his voice, as he told the rest of his tale. "And that's just the start…"

Listening to him, Joe felt sick, but continued to question Bobby. "What about the guard? How did he figure they'd get away with it?"

Bobby laughed bitterly. "Oh, yeah. When it's all over, one of them will 'rough' him up a little, and cuff him, so it looks like he was overpowered."

All too soon, it was time for Bobby to go back. Although knew he had to go, he resisted, knowing he might never come back. This didn't go over well with the guards, who roughly snapped the cuffs back on him. Alex and Joe watched helplessly; as much as they wanted to help him there was nothing they could do, except assure him they'd get him out. And Bobby, having no choice, resisted no more as they pushed him out of the room.

Once Bobby was gone, Alex looked at Joe.

"You have got to get him out of here! Talk to that judge! Do something!"

Joe was already on his feet. "Let's go!"

Before long Alex and Joe were outside the Court House, where the judge who sentenced Bobby to Rikers had just emerged. Amazingly, the judge was reluctant to have Bobby moved.

"Isn't he already in protective custody?" he demanded.

"Yes, Your Honor, but—"Joe started.

"Then that's where he stays! I told you once I'm not giving special privileges to Goren just because he's a detective. If anything, he should be given less. He's supposed to be an example to the community, and frankly, right now I don't feel like he's much of an ideal example."

"Your Honor—"

"Another word and you'll both find yourselves joining him."

But Alex and Joe were adamant. At the moment Bobby's safety was all that mattered; what happened to them was inconsequential.

"Your Honor," Alex started again, getting really angry. "They're going to kill him! Probably tonight. And those so-called guards who are supposed to be protecting him are in on it!"

"Do you have any proof of this, Detective?"

Joe stared at him. "What kind of proof would you like, sir? His body delivered to your door?"

"Counselor…"

Alex jumped in again. "With all due respect, Sir, if you don't have him moved immediately, whatever happens to him will be on your head. And then we'll be arresting _you_."

The judge glared at them. "I'll look into it, Detective… Counselor. And I'll get back to you." He started to get into his waiting car.

"There's no time…!" Joe started.

"I **_said_** I'd get back to you." He settled himself in his car, and was driven off, leaving a very shocked Alex and Joe standing there looking at each other.

Alex was the first to recover. "What the hell?" was all she could manage.

tbc


	13. Chapter 13

AN Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. We were on vacation, and as it turned out, had no access to the Internet. We returned to storm damage, and intermittent cable, phone and Internet (all one package). Anyway, here is the next chapter.

By the Book Chapter 13

Bobby was screwed, literally, figuratively, any way you put it, he was screwed. Or soon would be. He was scared, and he was frustrated and angry. Scared for the obvious reasons, frustrated and angry because everyone knew what was coming, yet nobody either could or _would_ do anything about it.

The not knowing was what was killing him now. Just sitting in a cell, totally helpless, just waiting for whoever, to do whatever they wanted to him, was killing him. And the thought that someone was allowing this to happen to him made him incredibly angry. He thought about the pain that they would put him through, wondered just how much he could endure, before it became too much for even his mind to take.

For some reason, maybe in an attempt to stop his mind from thinking about his future, he thought about his past.

As a little boy he had never been outright tortured but he had certainly been abused, and sometimes badly. As the child of a mentally ill schizophrenic mother and an alcoholic father, he was the unlucky recipient of abuse by both parents. And in order to survive, he had instinctively developed some coping mechanisms. One of these was a form of mental escape, to completely remove his mind from one place and take it to a higher level. This process came about one day when he was about seven, completely unknowingly. It simply evolved out of necessity. He had put up with drunken beatings from his father for years before that, but after his mother got sick and started in on him too, at times it just became too much for his young mind and body to handle. So it coped the only way it could.

One day when Bobby was about seven, he and his older brother Joey were bothering each other, mainly Bobby irritating his brother just by being there, and his brother smacking him lightly in the head, over and over, just enough to get to him. Finally Bobby retaliated, inadvertently knocking his milk over. Both boys automatically looked at their mother, and the response was immediate; they could see it in her eyes. Joey immediately took off, never looking back. Bobby wasn't so lucky; his mother grabbed him, dragging him off to his room, along with a wooden coat hanger, and she started in on him long before they got to the bedroom. She was beating him with the hanger, screaming senseless words at him: seed of the devil, demon child, the usual crazy things. He was screaming, too, crying, begging her to stop. The pain was unbearable as the wooden hangerrained down on his head and body over and over. Then, somehow, although the beating didn't stop, the pain did. Bobby was no longer there. His mind had retreated into itself, to some safe place where only he could go, and no one could hurt him there, not his mother, not his father, no one. And somehow, from a safe distance, he could see his mother, standing over a little boy who was lying on a bed, trying to burrow his head into a pillow to protectit, as his mother continued beating him. Much later, haven fallen into an exhausted, restless sleep, Bobby awoke, his small body covered with ugly purple bruises and angry red welts. He hurt all over. But at least for a little while, he had escaped the pain. And although he never actually tried to make it happen, it seemed to occur on it's own quite a bit after that. And that may have been one of the reasons he had survived his traumatic childhood.

Bobby suddenly came back to the present with a start, remembering his dire situation. He had forgotten about his childhood coping mechanism, although he did realize that the times when he retreated into his inner self over mental stress he was somewhat doing the same thing, only to a much lesser degree. Seeing no escape from his fate, he wondered if he could possibly bring up that feeling again, that coping method, if it would still work for him today. Because now, more than any other time in his life, he would need it. The only problem with that was the fact that every time it was employed as a way to escape reality, the more difficult it was for his mind to come back. But at the moment, escape in any form was much more pleasant than his reality.

Then the guard walked over and peered into his cell. "Hey, Goren. Up for the party tonight?" He laughed, then walked back to his niche.

Bobby watched him for a second, taking a deep breath. He was more determined than ever to survive this, if for no other reason than to take down that guard.

_Manhatten, home of Judge Huntington_

Judge Randall Huntington was a little pissed. It upset him greatly that the detective and the lawyer had dared to question his judgement concerning Goren. For Christ sake, he already had the guy placed in protective custody! What the hell else could he do? He felt like he had done his part. It was now up to the warden to do his job. He poured himself another drink, thinking about it. The two had sure seemed earnest; obviously they were just looking out for the man. He hoped they wouldn't try going over his head on this. That might put him in a bad light with his contemporaries, many of who didn't share the high standards he didfor public officials. Damn it! He hated giving in on his principles. Never once in his entire career had he given special considerations to members of law enforcement who'd ended up in jail for one reason or another. He always felt like that those who did work for law enforcement or for the public should never be above the law themselves; therefore, when one of them managed to show up in his court, he usually threw the book at them. And Robert Goren was no exception.

But… what if something really were to happen to him? He actually was a decent man who just happened to have very high standards. He really had no desire to see Detective Goren injured or harmed. But the bottom line was, if something did happen to Goren, then he'd be the one getting the book thrown at him. Not to mention how it might cost him politically. Son of a bitch! He figured it would behoove him to put in a call to the warden at Rikers, feel him out, and if they believed it necessary then Goren would be moved to a different facility, or put into an even more secure area. He decided to give the warden a call, and see what he thought.

_Rikers, that night_

They were coming. Bobby could feel it, long before he could even see them. For the hundredth time Bobby tried the lock on his cell, then slammed his fist into the bars in frustration, jamming his wrist and fingers in the process. Which angered him even more.

Then they were there. The guard grinned at him as he unlocked his cell, allowing the inmates in, forcing Bobby back in the small cell. The door was locked again.

"Hey, Goren," one of the inmates said, a slight smile on his face.

Bobby nodded slightly. "McFadden," he acknowledged.

McFadden grinned. "Well, imagine meeting you again, and in a place like this. Small world, huh?"

"Yeah, small world. Did you set this up?" Bobby asked, stalling for time. "Or is this just a happy accident?"

"Just pure good old-fashioned luck," McFadden said, his one hand running slowly up and down the broomstick. " A real dream come true. It ain't often ya get to 'do' the cop that sent ya up."

Bobby couldn't help but look at the stick. Just like the guard said, it was broken in half, with jagged spikes and edges. He tried not to show any emotion, but inside his chest, his heart was pounding furiously.

"You gonna get them pants off you, boy, or are we gonna have to do it for you?"

"Fuck you."

McFadden just grinned again. "Now you know that's _our_ job. We brought a few things for you," he said, nodding to one of the other men who handed him a few items. "A few little tools of the trade. I know you've seen all this stuff before." He held up a small piece of a rag. "A gag, to keep your big fuckin mouth shut. Some duct tape, to keep your hands taped up real good behind you, and of course, _this_." He put the broomstick right in Bobby's face.

Bobby started to feel panicky. He looked at the guard and the inmates, gauging his chances of escaping from all this. He recognized them all. At one time or another he'd had something to do with each of them, whether it was arresting them or testifying against them, he'd done something to send them here. He could almost understand their wanting to get even with him, although not to this extent. But the guard? What possible reason could he have for this, other than just plain cruelty? Or money. At least the inmates, right or wrong, had a reason. Bobby knew he didn't stand a chance, especially with the cell still locked, but he'd go down fighting and one way or another, that guard was going down with him, a promise he'd made a long while back.

McFadden advanced, slowly backing Bobby up the short distance to the back of the cell. Then, taking everyone by surprise, Bobby suddenly was on the guard, hitting him so hard he felt a bone break in his own hand. At the moment he didn't care, an extremely satisfying cracking noise coupled with a scream of pain told him he'd broken the guard's jaw.

His moment of satisfaction didn't last long however, as he was suddenly set upon by three of the inmates, while the others waited eagerly for their chance. They shoved him first face-first onto the floor, and twisted his arms severely behind him, ripping and tearing tendons and ligaments in both shoulders. Then, with his arms still twisted painfully, they duct-taped his wrists securely behind his back. Jerking him by his injured arms they pulled him to his feet to face McFadden.

McFadden looked at Bobby for a second, then out of the blue, slammed him in the solar plexis, doubling him over.

Indicating Bobby's tightly taped wrists, McFadden sneered, "Ya like being restrained like that, your arms all twisted up real bad behind you? Kinda hurts, doesn't it? Like being handcuffed by some bastard cop who doesn't give a shit about how bad it hurts or how humiliating it is. But you oughta know all about that." He got right in Bobby's face, shoving him a bit. "Well, ya know what? You haven't got the foggiest idea of what real pain and humiliation is, but you're going to find out tonight."

Bobby didn't say anything, already in too much pain for conversation. At McFadden's nod, the inmates applied more pressure to his arms, and Bobby finally cried out, as his shoulders, agonizingly slipping from their sockets,were dislocated.

"Gag him," McFadden said, not taking any chances on anyone hearing, although there wasn't much chance of that. They forced him to his knees, and though Bobby fought it, they managed to jam the rag deeply into his mouth.

McFadden looked back at the guard, who was standing as far back from Bobby as possible, holding his jaw and letting go with an occasional moan. "You want a shot at him?"

The guard just stared at him, and McFadden smirked. "He can't hurt you, you stupid son of a bitch. Look at him! He can't do shit! You want a shot or not?"

As the guard continued to stand back, McFadden started to get angry. "Go on, man, he busted your jaw! Get him back!" He shoved the guard at Bobby, and the guard, now more afraid of McFadden, took out his nightstick. He looked at Bobby, who was still kept kneeling, and suddenly saw red. He pulled back on the nightstick, then slammed it as hard as he could into Bobby's face, shattering his cheekbone.

Bobby's face exploded in pain, as pieces of broken bone were driven into the surrounding area. As he drifted into unconsciousness, he could vaguely hear McFadden screaming something about not letting him pass out. But it was too late for that. Bobby never evenhad to try the mental escape mechanism. They provided it themselves with the severe blow to his head. McFadden's screaming voice was the last thing he heard as the blessed darkness overcame him.

tbc


	14. Chapter 14

By the Book Chapter 14 

Judge Huntington had finally gotten hold of Warden Thomas, who been out for the evening with his wife. A page to get in touch with his assistant at Rikers accompanied this. Warden Thomas was not very happy about having his evening ruined, but, if this prisoner was, in fact, in danger… well, he needed to get back to the prison right away.

---------------

McFadden was furious. He had intended on taking his time with Goren, making his agony last all night, really punishing him. He'd barely gotten started; all he'd got to do so far was dislocate the guy's shoulders and bat him around a little. And now this stupid fuck guard Sanders goes and takes him out. Well, it didn't matter, he was still going to get what he deserved, conscious or not. Of course it would be a hell of a lot better if he was awake.

"Wake him up!" he ordered, getting more agitated by the minute.

Watching in amusement, the guy who had produced the duct tape held up his hand. "Relax, McFadden. I've got it covered." He then pulled a small bottle of ammonia spirits from his bag, the same one that held the duct tape and rag, and god knows what else. "Thought we might be needing this."

McFadden didn't know whether to be pissed at the guy for waiting so long to produce it, or kiss him just for having it. He decided on neither, grabbing the bottle from his hand. He knelt down by Bobby, opening the bottle and holding it close to his nose. After a few seconds Bobby started gagging; between the ammonia irritating his nasal passage and the gag still stuck halfway down his throat, he began choking, trying desperately to get a breath. McFadden was enjoying it too much, watching Bobby's fear escalate as he struggled to breathe. Finally, he pulled the rag from Bobby's mouth. Bobby continued to choke a little longer, then gradually the choking slowed; his breaths coming in smaller gasps.

"Welcome back, _Bobby_," McFadden purred. When it became clear that Bobby would make it, he pulled him into a sitting position and replaced the gag. Bobby's little ordeal had been interesting, McFadden thought. Maybe that's how he'd eventually kill him.

Bobby leaned his head back against the bars, still breathing laboriously, exhausted from his difficulty in breathing, and the trauma he'd already been through. His face hurt unbelievably, with the shards from the shattered cheekbone cutting intothe surrounding areas, the pain from the broken bone shooting all the way through his head, which was now pounding furiously. He could feel the left side of his face swelling.

He tried to move his hands and arms to adjust his uncomfortable position, but his arms ached excruciatingly, too badly to even attempt to help move himself. And he found that his hands had lost almost all feeling, the circulation cut off from the extremely tight taping of his wrists. But at least that prevented his broken hand (from hitting the guard) from hurting as much. He was miserable, and they'd barely started with him.

"Ready for some more, Goren?" McFadden asked.

Bobby was so out of it he barely heard him, apparently ignoring him. That pissed McFadden off even more. He kicked Bobby hard in the ribs, then did it again. "Anybody else want a shot at this fuck? Before the real show starts?"

Within seconds two of the inmates, eagerly waiting their turn, were on Bobby. One of them yanked him back to his feet, while the other began using him as a punching bag, concentrating on his face and kidneys.

Finally McFadden decided Bobby was "ready", it was time.

"Get him down," he said, practically drooling in his eagerness, watching Bobby's eyes. "And get those pants off of him." Sadist that he was, seeing the fear in Bobby's eyes was a turn on for him. He could get off on this.

Then one of the younger unseasoned inmates suddenly got scared.

"Hey, man, I ain't up for this!"

"What the fuck you saying, boy?"

The kid was starting to panic. "Look at him, man! He's… I thought we were gonna rough him up some—I ain't up for murder! Or…_this!"_

McFadden's eyes narrowed. "You some kind of pussy ass cunt or something? You crossing me boy!" He hated traitors about as much as he hated cops.

"What? No, man! I just never—" he was cut off as McFadden suddenly hit him hard in the face. The kid dropped, and McFadden grabbed the broom handle and snarled, "It's either you or _him_!"

The kid started to protest, nearly crying, begging, and McFadden grinned. "Okay, your decision. First you, then the cop." Then the other inmates were on the kid, and Bobby, only semi-conscious, was only vaguely aware as McFadden started in on the kid. He thought he was screaming "NO!" through the gag, then he blacked out again.

Not long after the inmates started on the kid, the guards arrived. They never got back to Bobby. Thanks to the determination of Alex and Joe getting something going, Warden Thomas had things back under control. The guards had swarmed the protective cellblock, and taken the inmates back into custody, beating some of them, including McFadden, into submission. Lennie Sanders, the guard, had convinced them he was a victim himself, and since there were no other witnesses, except the inmates, he escaped everything. He was taken to the hospital for his broken jaw, along with Bobby and the young inmate, both seriously injured. The guard was hoping, for his sake, that their injuries would prove fatal.

----------------

Alex and Joe were seated in two of the not-so-comfortable chairs at Mt. Sinai Hospital, waiting for news on Bobby. Every so often, one would get up, pace around a bit, then sit down again.

"I hate hospitals," Alex muttered, talking to try to take her mind off Bobby, and what was happening with him. She was very anxious, having absolutely no clue as to his condition.

"Yeah. Me, too." Joe said.

"Every time I come here, it's cause somebody's hurt. Well, except for when I had my nephew."

_Had her what?_ _How could_… _never mind. _Joe was too tired to even ask her what the hell that was all about.

A grim looking Captain Deakins arrived, "Well?" he asked impatiently.

"Don't know yet," Joe said.

Alex continued. "All we know is that Bobby, some guard, and another inmate were all brought in, and they seemed pretty worried about Bobby and the inmate." It was obvious how worried Alex was.

"God!" Deakins groaned. "What the hell happened?"

"They…got to him, Captain. Just like Bobby said they would." There was no mistaking the angst in her voice and on her face. "He _told_ us, Captain! He _told_ us, and we failed him. We tried to get help, and no one gave a shit!"

"There's going to be hell to pay for this," Deakins murmured, a low intensity to his voice.

"How about some _good _coffee?" Joe offered. They had coffee in the waiting room, but by now it was like sludge.

Deakins and Alex both nodded. "Thanks."

About an hour later, a doctor came through the doors to the waiting room. "For Robert Goren?" he asked.

"Yes!" Alex answered, as they moved to him.

"Are you family?"

"He has no real family. I'm his captain, I've got the authority."

"Okay then. Well, first off, he's going to be alright—"

There was a collective sigh of relief. The doctor gave them a second, then continued. "But he has suffered a severe beating; some fractures, dislocations, a lot of bruising. There is a facial fracture that is of some concern, and that will require some surgery. He was brought in here unconscious, and that is also a concern."

"But you said he's going to be alright?" Alex reiterated.

"Yes, I believe so. But as I said, there is some concern about the facial injuries. A bone in his face was shattered, we won't know how much damage there is or how it will affect him until the surgery. We'll know more after that."

Deakins nodded. "There's one question, Doctor…"

The doctor looked at him questioningly. Deakins continued. "He was…um…threatened with sexual violence?"

"No, no, nothing like that. Somehow, in his mass of injuries, he escaped that."

Another rush of relief.

"Thank God! Is he awake now?" Joe asked. "Can we see him?"

"He's awake, but in a lot of pain. He's on a painkiller now, so he'll be pretty groggy. As soon as we get him settled into a room, you can see him. But just for a few minutes. His surgery is scheduled for tomorrow, and he'll need all the rest he can get. And just so you know, he looks pretty beat up," the doctor warned them.

About an hour later, Bobby was in his room. The three of them walked slowly in, not quite knowing what to expect. The doctor had been right, he looked like hell. The entire left side of his face, including his eye, was swollen, and had turned a nasty shade of purple. His lips were also swollen and bruised, and a small amount of blood still trickled from his nose. He was shirtless, to accommodate the slings on both arms from his dislocated shoulders, which were also bruised and swollen. His upper body was wrapped tightly due to the broken ribs, and there was a cast on his left hand, broken when he hit the guard. They couldn't see any more, since there was a sheet covering him from the waist down, but they figured he had ample bruising all over.

Despite the doctor's warning, the three were shocked at Bobby's appearance. He appeared to be unaware of their presence, slightly dozing, eyes closed. His breathing seemed labored. They could see bits of residue from the tape used to bind him still on his wrists.

"Hey, Bobby," Alex said softly.

He opened his good eye. He mumbled something resembling "hi" and nodded slightly, acknowledging them. He winced. The movement made his already pounding head pound even more.

"Hey, buddy," Joe said. "Don't try to talk, it's okay."

"We just wanted to see you, let you know we were here," Deakins added. "We're not staying. You try and get some sleep, and we'll be back again in the morning."

Bobby didn't say anything, appeared to be struggling to stay awake and keep his good eye open.

Alex kissed him gently on the top of his head. "Go to sleep, Bobby," she said softly. Her words were unnecessary. He was already asleep.

tbc


	15. Chapter 15

By the Book Chapter 15 

The surgery on Bobby's cheekbone the following morning was postponed, due to the fact that the swelling had not gone down enough, and had actually increased. They decided to run another CT head scan, looking for possible brain swelling or other injuries to the brain. They were also concerned about his vision, but could not learn anything due to the fact that his eye was still swollen shut. The swelling had extended well past his nose, causing difficulty with breathing, and he had to be put on oxygen to help him.

The doctor explained all this to Deakins and Alex (Joe couldn't be there, he had a court date) along with all the possible complications. He also said that at the moment their plan was to replace part of the bone with a miniplate and very small screws.

"Hopefully we'll be able to go in through his mouth," Dr. Springer told them. "That will eliminate any facial scarring, but of course, like anything else, it will be determined by what we find once we get started. You're welcome to visit with him, but he may have difficulty in speaking; facial movements of any kind right now are extremely painful. You may have noticed how it was speaking with him last night?"

Alex nodded. "He only said one word to us last night. 'Hi.' At least that's what we think it was."

"It's not any better today. He'll continue to be on painkillers for some time, and he is still pretty groggy."

After the doctor left, Deakins sighed and shook his head. "All this, and when he comes out of it all he's still going back to jail." Alex just looked at him, a pained expression on her face.

They went in to see Bobby again. _Holy_ _shit! He looks worse than_ _he did before!_

Bobby was sitting up in bed, his back propped against a few pillows. He smiled slightly, trying to use his facial muscles and bones as little as possible. The swelling had indeed increased, and the dark purple bruising now had a greenish tint to it. The oxygen, although helping him breathe, made it look all the worse.

Alex sat down very gently on the bed.

He looked up at them sleepily, and mumbled "thank you" to Alex.

"Why are you thanking me? She was genuinely confused.

"Gettin me out." It was nearly unintelligible, but she got it. Tears suddenly appeared in her eyes, and she began to cry softly, covering her eyes with her hands.

Now Bobby seemed confused and looked to Deakins with his good eye. Deakins wasn't any better, he shrugged, spreading his hands out before him.

"I'm so sorry, Bobby!" she said, still crying. "It's all my fault! I should have made them take you out of there long before it ever happened. We should have done it a long time ago…" Alex was shaking and crying, looking like she'd lost her best friend, which she very nearly did.

"S alright," Bobby managed, helpless to say or do much of anything. He couldn't even hug her. He looked to Deakins again for help. So Deakins gently took each of her hands, and slowly pulled her pulled her up to him, enveloping her a big bear hug.

After a while Alex seemed to settle down, and the two of them sat and talked with Bobby for a while, Bobby mostly listening.

At one point, Bobby asked about the kid who had been hurt along with him. At least they thought he said "the kid." _Damn!_ It really _was_ hard trying to talk without moving your face.

"Are you saying 'kid?' Is that what you said?"

"Yeah." He could have nodded, but that would have sent the pain already pounding in his head through the roof.

"What kid?" Deakins asked. This was going to be an ordeal, trying to get information from a man who at the moment had very little means of communication.

"Jail," Bobby was trying to say, but it sounded more like "Jill."

"Jill? Jill who?" Alex asked, confused again. She had no idea who "Jill" was, or why Bobby would be bringing up a person none of them knew at this particular time when he could barely speak. She attributed it to the medications he was on, he did seem pretty out of it. Which was probably a very good thing, considering the pain he had to be in.

"Jail!" Bobby repeated.

"Okay, Bobby. We know "Jill,' what about her?" Deakins was beginning to sense Bobby's growing restlessness.

"No! Jail!" Bobby leaned back against the pillows, closing his eye. It would have been comical, had it not been for the gravity of Bobby's condition.

He was very frustrated. He couldn't get them to understand. All he wanted to know was how the kid who'd been injured in jail with him was doing. This was impossible. He was starting to get angry with himself. He couldn't talk, he couldn't write, couldn't use his arms at all. He wondered how long after the surgery it would be before he could talk again. Not being able to use his hands as he spoke was bad enough, but not being able to talk at all? This was definitely going to be a problem.

Bobby finally dropped the subject, knowing it was going nowhere. That was a big relief to the other two, who realized it wouldn't be long before Bobby lost it. And that would probably piss his doctors off; getting all stressed out wouldn't be a good thing right before surgery.

After Alex and Deakins had gone, Bobby lay in his bed, thinking. Although still under the effects of the painkillers, he couldn't get that kid out of his head. His foggy mind couldn't even remember his name. But he knew if that kid hadn't changed his mind about hurting him, then he'd be in even more pain than now (physically and mentally) and even possibly dead. That kid saved his life, and he had no way of knowing what had happened to him. This was weighing heavily on his mind.

It was another two days before the swelling went down enough for Bobby's doctors to perform the surgery. A few of the tests were run again, plus more x-rays. Bobby was _so_ ready for this, he just wanted to be able to speak clearly again.

Alex and Deakins were both there. Doctor Springer again told them the plan of action. As he told them previously, they would first attempt to try it by going through his mouth. It's possible it wouldn't work, however, in which case there were a few other options, none of which were very pleasant.

Bobby's operation was serious, butdid not appear to be life threatening, although anything was possible in surgery, especially surgery so near the eye and sinuses. Any infections could go to the brain, which could then prove fatal. However, everyone was working under the assumption that things would go according to plan.

And so the wait began.

About two hours later there was a call to the surgical waiting room, where Alex and Deakins waited with other families of surgical patients. It couldn't be for them, it was too soon for the operation to be over. The volunteer picked it up. "For Goren?"

---------------

It didn't take long for the news of Robert Goren's beating to get back to Mark Connelly, who, as the assistant Chief of Detectives was kept informed of all the goings-on of his detectives. He was devastated. This man had been more than assaulted, this had been a blatant attempt at murder.

This whole ordeal had had been preying on his conscience for some time now, more and more, and now this. How much longer could this go on? He seriously thought about turning Jake in. Jake obviously felt no such remorse, which bothered and hurt his father immensely. He realized some time ago that his son was a sociopath; and there was no changing him. It would always be that way with Jake. At least there was no danger of the death penalty. Nicole had been killed in a crime of passion (and stupidity, but so far that wasn't a crime). He'd get what? Fifteen years maybe? And get him off the streets for a while.

The downside of this was that his relationship with his son would be over. Not that it was much of a relationship anymore, anyhow. Over the past fifteen years Jake's sociopathic personality had ruined whatever respect they had for each other. Jake would hate his father with a passion. But Mark still loved his son, as did Jake's mother. It would kill her to lose her son. The other part was that if he turned Jake in, he'd also have to turn himself in. His career would be in ruins, he'd have to resign the job he loved and had worked for his entire life. And no doubt go to prison himself. It was due to his part in covering up Jake's original crime that had led to the deaths of those other two detectives, not to mention the beatings and attempted murder of Goren. And now that other inmate in whatever had gone down last night. All this was on his head. What the hell was he going to do?

---------------

The volunteer handed the phone to Deakins, who took it somewhat hesitantly. "Uh…yes? I'm here for Detective Goren…"

"I'm Sandy, one of the surgical nurses for Detective Goren. I'm calling to update you on his status. We had a little delay in getting started, but things are going well. We are able to go through his mouth, and at the moment, he's doing fine."

Deakins looked at Alex, giving her a thumb's up. "Thank you, Sandy." He hung up the phone. "He's doing fine," he told Alex.

Alex let out a relieved sigh. "Thank God! Finally!"

tbc


	16. Chapter 16

By the Book Chapter 16 

Hours later Deakins and Eames were called to the small conference room just off the surgical waiting area, where Doctor Maxwell Preston awaited.

"Hello," he said, "I'm Doctor Preston, I'm a specialist in maxillofacial surgery. I was called in by Doctor Springer to assist in Robert's surgery." He shook their hands. "Robert did fantastic. Everything looks great."

"Thank God!" Alex repeated.

"I understand you have a few questions?"

"Yes." Deakins answered for them both.

"Okay," Doctor Preston said. "Why don't I just tell you everything we did, and then if you have any questions I'll be happy to answer them.

"Usually, a broken cheekbone is just put back into place, and hopefully it will hold on it's own, sometimes it needs help with the addition of a very small metal plate and screws. This is what we had to do in Robert's case, in addition to a little bone graft involving the orbital eye socket. As you were probably already informed, we went through his mouth, through the gum above his back teeth. The stitches are dissolvable and will fall out on their own. All in all, it looks good."

"What about his recovery? What will that entail?"

"Well it's definitely going to be very sore for a while. He'll be on painkillers for a while; we'll get together with his other doctors on that, since he has those other injuries. And he'll be on antibiotics, intravenously at first, to ward off any infection involving the graft. There will be more swelling and bruising; the nurses will apply cold compresses to help alleviate that. It will also help with the pain. And it should take approximately six weeks to heal, and we will have to keep an eye on him for the next few months. Does that help?"

"Uh…yes. Thank you. Just one more thing, will this alter his appearance in any way?"

"Of course there's no way to know for a few more days at least, until the swelling goes down. But we feel very good about this."

"Thank you, Doctor," Deakins said, as the doctor left. He put his arm around Alex's shoulders. "See? Bobby's gonna be okay. Things are coming along. We'll get Bobby out of this mess yet."

Joe Simons was determined to get Bobby out of jail. He went back to Judge O'Toole, armed with statements from the doctors as to Bobby's condition, statements given by Jake Connelly from the interrogation with Eames and Logan, and a report of the jailhouse attack. If this didn't change the judge's mind, then nothing would. And there was no way in hell Bobby would survive another couple months in jail. There wouldn't be anything or anybody who could save him.

Judge O'Toole listened as Joe presented his case. The one thing he had dreaded had now happened. Goren had been attacked, nearly killed, and another prisoner and guard had been injured in that same attack. There were bound to be repercussions from this one. He was still reluctant to grant Joe's request, but finally relented, and Bobby, whenever he was medically well enough to be released from the hospital, would soon be out on bail.

Joe maintained his cool while in the presence of the judge, but once outside, couldn't help it, he fairly leaped down the steps, raising his arms in victory. Finally, one for Bobby.

-----------------

Joe hurried back to the hospital, meeting Deakins and Alex just as they were leaving the surgical waiting room.

"Good news!" Alex and Joe both spoke at the same time.

"You go," Joe said, allowing her to speak first, knowing it was about Bobby's operation.

"Every thing looks good for Bobby," Alex told him. "The operation appears to be a success, the doctor says he should be fine. We're just waiting for him to get into his room."

"That's great! And I've got some pretty good news, too."

Deakins and Alex both looked at Joe expectantly. "Well?"

"I got bail for him. As soon as he's okay, he gets to go home."

Alex hugged Joe, and Deakins shook his hand.

"Congratulations, Joe!" Deakins said.

Joe didn't normally receive congratulations for getting a client bail, but after all that Bobby had been through, this was a big deal.

"I can't wait for you to tell him!" Alex said, hugging him again.

A few hours later, after Bobby was settled back in his room, the small group entered. Alex wasn't sure exactly what she was expecting, but she was expecting him to look better. Instead he looked worse. His already bruised face was bruised even more, thanks to the surgery, and it was swollen again, plus a lot of packing on the inside of his mouth made it seem all the more swollen. But it was all for the good. He might look worse, but at least now he was on the road to recovery.

Bobby was propped up by a couple of pillows, partially sitting up, per the doctor's instructions to keep him upright. There was an IV pole next to his bed, with a couple bags attached, with the line running into Bobby's right hand. Alex came up to him and kissed the top of his head, then brushed the curls off his forehead.

"How ya feeling, Bobby?" she asked.

He grunted something unintelligible. Despite being loaded up on painkillers, he was still in a lot of pain.

"We've got some news, Bobby." He looked at them. They all seemed kind of…antsy? Wired?

He closed his eyes momentarily, expecting the worst, bracing himself for…_what?_ _He was being shipped off to Rikers for good, without even the benefit of a damn trial in some kind of kangaroo court? _ After everything that had happened, even his thoughts were sarcastic.

Finally Alex couldn't hold back any longer. "Bobby, Joe got you released on bail! You're out!"

Bobby, still groggy, stared at her for a second, not understanding. "What?" he mumbled.

"It's true, Bobby," Joe continued. "That bastard judge finally relented, _on threat of a lawsuit_, to release you on bail."

"God…!" he shifted in the bed, suddenly trying to get up, getting himself all worked up.

"Whoa, Bobby," Deakins said, pushing him back gently, trying not to hurt him, but not wanting him to hurt himself, either. At last Bobby settled back in the bed, taking a big breath. Now that hurt. He'd have to remember not to do that, until his broken ribs healed.

"Thank you!" he whispered.

"It's okay," Joe said. "It's something you should have had all along. There's no way in hell you should have ever had to go through all this. No way in hell! I'm sorry, Bobby."

But Bobby was just grateful to be getting out. "Thanks," he

repeated.

Deakins smiled at him. "Well, now that we've got you all woke up, we're going to leave so you can rest and get some sleep."

Bobby managed a smile. "No—"

"Sorry, Bobby, doctor's orders. We've already got you all worked up. They'll be kicking us out soon."

"Just a little…" It was still difficult for him to speak, and just as difficult to be understood.

"Alright. But just for a little while."

So Bobby sat back and just listened to them talk, about his release on bail, the preparations for his trial, and general things of interest. Then Bobby asked the question again. "The kid?"

"What kid?" Alex asked. She hoped this conversation would go better than the last time.

"In JAIL." Bobby enunciated as clearly as possible.

"The kid in the jail with you? The one who was injured?"

"Yes!" Finally, they understood him!

The three of them exchanged glances. That kid who'd been in jail with Bobby was very sick, the result of a severe infection resulting from the attack when the other inmates turned on him. Why Bobby cared so much about this kid was beyond them, after all, this kid had been one of his attackers. Regardless, Bobby did care. And so they were reluctant to tell him.

Deakins changed the subject. "Well at least now you can recuperate in the comfort of your own—"

"What about him?" Bobby demanded, starting to get agitated again.

Again they looked at each other. "He's… very sick, Bobby. He might not make it," Deakins said gently.

"What?" Bobby's voice sounded strangled.

"They tore him up real bad, Bobby. He's developed a severe infection. They can't get it under control…"

Bobby looked stricken. Suddenly his stomach rolled; it was all he could do to prevent being sick.

"Are you okay, Bobby?" Alex asked, concerned. Then they all realized. This horrible attack was what had been planned for Bobby. He'd only escaped the same fate by minutes. If they hadn't, for some reason, attacked the inmate first…Bobby was feeling guilty, warranted or not.

"Hey, Bobby, c'mon. You gonna be okay, man?" Joe persisted.

"Look, Bobby," Deakins said. "None of this is your fault. They attacked _you_! That inmate included! Just because they turned on him for some reason is not your fault." Alex and Joe agreed.

"Yeah," he mumbled, just to get them to leave him alone. "I'm alright."

"You sure?"

Bobby nodded, shutting his eyes for a moment.

Then, sensing how drained Bobby really was, they decided to go, and let him rest.

Bobby, so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open, sat propped against the pillows, with his head just slightly back, thinking.

That kid had saved his life. He may have come to Bobby's cell with all sort of evil intent, but the fact that he didn't go through with it, and had, in fact, tried to prevent them from hurting him any further, told him that there was still some good in that kid. And he felt horrible. _God…please let him_ _make it…_

Finally Bobby began to succumb to the residual effects of the surgery, anesthesia, and the narcotic effect of the painkillers, and fell into a very exhausted sleep. He slept a little easier, knowing that for the first time in months he could sleep without the fear of being attacked.

tbc


	17. Chapter 17

By the Book Chapter 17 

They say the worst time after an operation is the second day, and this certainly proved true for Bobby. The anesthesia had fully worn off, and despite being on painkillers, which only slightly deadened the pain, his jaw and the entire side of his face just ached horribly. His jaw hurt from being the site where the doctors worked through for more than six hours; his face and the rest of his body just plain hurt from the god-awful beating and torture he suffered at the hands of the inmates. On the bright side, and Bobby kept telling himself this: it would get no worse, from here on out it could only get better. Right?

Another good thing was that most of the nurses were rather taken with him, and sought to make his stay there as comfortable as possible, which surprised him greatly, considering he was accused of murder. He figured they probably didn't know, and once they did, they'd avoid him like the plague. It never occurred to him that they just found him to be a very sweet, gentle man, and they never believed for a second that he was guilty of anything.

Any day now Bobby would be going home, and he was both excited and, truth be told, a little nervous. He hadn't been home in months. He would be alone, which was extremely nice. He could sleep in relative quiet, which was a rarity here lately. It was never quiet at Rikers, at all hours of the night there would be someone yelling, someone screaming, all kinds of strange unidentifiable noises. And at the hospital, they were always waking you up at all hours for something: medication, blood pressure checks, taking of one's temperature, whatever was required. A good night's sleep was virtually impossible. And Bobby needed sleep desperately. He had hardly slept in months had never felt so worn and drained in his life.

He thought about what it would be like to actually be home again. He pictured his big king-sized bed at home, and being able to stretch out his long body on it's length. He pictured his old coffee maker, and having the right, the pleasure, of having coffee just whenever he wanted. He pictured his amazing collection of books filling every available bookshelf in his apartment, and him being able to just choose one whenever the mood struck. Amazing how the little things suddenly took on such importance when you've been denied them for so long. It put everything in a new perspective.

But Bobby, always the thinker, suddenly had a thought occur to him, and it scared the hell out of him. He thought of all the prisoners at Rikers, and how all the little amenities of life were being denied to them. He wasn't in the clear yet, far from it. What if he was convicted? His life would never be the same again. All the little things in life he took for granted—gone forever. And prison life, even the little he experienced, was not to his liking at all. He'd been stripped of everything, including his dignity. One of the things he'd hated most had been the lack of privacy. Bobby had always been a very private person, and every move he made had been watched, from taking a shower to using the urinal. His food had been portioned out, and it was never enough. He was always hungry; he'd lost thirteen pounds in the time he was in there. But the worst thing of all was the constant threat to his life. That would never let up for as long as he lived.

Thinking that his life would be like this, forever if he was convicted, started making him a little panicky; it was all he could do to try and prevent a major panic attack. It wasn't working; his heart rate had gone up dramatically, enough to bring his nurse hurrying in.

"Are you all right, Bobby?" she asked, placing a stethoscope on his chest and moving it around.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay…" he said, still unable to speak without mumbling. "I had a…a… dream, that's all."

"You seem a little on edge," she continued. "I'm going to put a little something in your IV. It'll relax you a little." She left his room, only to return a few minutes later. The medication she put in his IV seemed to work, his heart rate slowly returned to normal, and he finally dropped off to sleep.

A few hours later, Alex arrived at the hospital, and soon was on Bobby's floor, stopping at the nurse's station to inquire about his condition before proceeding to his room.

"Hi, Kelly," Alex greeted Bobby's nurse.

"Hello, Detective."

"How's Bobby doing?"

A slight frown appeared on Kelly's face. "Well, he's doing very well, actually…"

Now Alex was frowning. "But…?'

"Oh, no, it's nothing serious. He just had a bit of a panic attack earlier today, but he's fine. He's sleeping now."

"He's okay? You're sure?" Alex knew Bobby well enough to be concerned about his state of mind.

"I'm sure, really. I just gave him a little something to calm him. He's fine."

" What about physically?"

"Physically, he's doing fine. His vitals are exactly where they should be. As for the panic attack—he said he'd had a dream."

Alex just nodded, and went on to Bobby's room. Just as Kelly had said, he was sleeping. She looked down at Bobby's battered face and body. She felt so bad for him. Poor Bobby, he didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve any of this, She wished there was something she could do to help him, to comfort him. The best thing she could do for him now would be to continue to encourage him, and put the real killer behind bars.

She sat in a chair by his bed and just waited. It became obvious after a while that Bobby was in a deep sleep and wouldn't be waking up anytime soon. Alex just watched him for awhile, and decided that Bobby's body needed the sleep more than he needed the company. She decided to just let him sleep, and come back later.

As soon as Alex returned to One Police Plaza she was met by Deakins.

"How's Bobby?" he asked.

"Fine. His nurse said he's exactly where they want him to be." She didn't seem as "up" as normal.

"So why the long face?"

"I'm not sure," Alex said. "They said he's fine, but he _did_ have a panic attack, and I'm just worried, y'know?"

Deakins smiled at her. "I know you're worried for Bobby, but try to remain up, for his sake. Hell, Alex, if I'd been through what he's been through, _I'd_ be having panic attacks, too, and probably a lot more of them. He's had a rough go of it Alex, and it's been ongoing for months now. It's gonna take some time for things to feel right with him. And remember it's still not over. You just have to have faith that once it is over, and I mean _all_ over, he'll be fine."

"I guess so." Alex agreed. She felt kind of numb. Would it ever be over for Bobby?

Much later Bobby awoke again. It was dark in his room. The dimmed light over his bed put out whatever illumination there was, just enough for him to see. He must have slept the entire day. That was good. One less day of pain, but now the pain was coming back, strong. He needed some more medication, and found that the nurse's call button had somehow fallen out of his reach. Had both arms not been injured and in slings he might have managed to retrieve it, it was only about three inches away. But despite nearly straining his already hurting arms, he couldn't get it. Luckily for him, the night nurse would be in shortly to check his vitals.

"Bobby, you're awake!" she said, surprised, putting a blood pressure cuff around his arm, difficult because of the sling. "How are you feeling? Are you hungry? I can have them bring up some broth or Jell-O for you if you want." Bobby shook his head. "Pain," was all he said.

"Sorry, honey," she said sympathetically. "We'll fix that up for you in a jif." She continued with the job at hand, taking his temperature and all the rest of the vital signs she needed. After the little "beep" she read the results and noted them on his chart, and left. She returned about five minutes later with the pain medication. "This will put you back to sleep again," she told him.

Bobby didn't care, he just wanted some relief. And a few minutes later, it was back to la-la land for Bobby.

The next morning Bobby awoke early with a whole new outlook. He felt refreshed; he'd gotten more sleep in the last twenty-four hours than he'd had in weeks, the pain in his face had lessened somewhat, and he felt good. He considered his thoughts from yesterday, and was more excited than ever to get home. In his current condition he wasn't sure yet just how he was going to manage once he got home, but that didn't discourage his good mood. As for the thoughts of life in prison, he figured he cross that bridge when he came to it. If and when it came down to it, well it didn't matter anyhow. There was no way he was going back to that hellhole. Right now all he wanted to think about was going home.

tbc


	18. Chapter 18

By the Book Chapter 18

The first few days after his surgery were the most stress free Bobby could ever remember. He felt safe, no one was attacking him, he had no worries. He actually felt safer than he'd ever felt in his life. There were no inmates here to attack him, there was no crazy mother terrorizing him, no dad to beat him. He had no cases to worry about, he didn't have to be anywhere or do anything. All he had to do was sleep, and let others take care of him for a change. His brain could actually rest for a while. It was a good feeling.

He _should_ have had some worries, like about his upcoming trial, but, right now, he didn't. He had made a few decisions.

One of his decisions was that, no matter what the outcome of his trial, he was never going back to that torture chamber they called prison. They'd probably be sorry that they granted him bail, because if it even _started_ to look like he could lose, he'd be out of there. He'd jump bail, and there'd be no looking back. Bobby was smart enough and clever enough. If anyone could do this and get away with it, it was he. He had it all worked out already.

The down side was that he would be officially declared a fugitive, and would live life on the run forever. _Better than being beaten_ _and tortured to death in prison._ And he'd miss those in his tight circle of friends, the ones who really mattered, like Alex and Lewis, and the schizophrenic mother who had alternately frightened and adored him. _Still better than the alternative._ So, with the outcome of his trial having no bearing on his personal safety, Bobby's mind was finally able to relax.

It wasn't that he no longer cared; he did. He wanted his name to be cleared more than anything so he could return to a normal life and a job that he enjoyed more than anything on earth. He really had no desire to run. It would only happen as a last resort.

In the meantime, he continued to be fawned over by the nurses, he was starting to move his jaw and face, and was finally able to speak clearly, although somewhat stiffly. And, he was now ready to start on soft foods. That was a good thing, cause he was hungry for real food. When you're 6'4" and over 200 pounds, broth and Jell-o just didn't cut it. He felt like he'd died and gone to heaven the first time he was given an actual meal menu. Another one of the little things normal people took for granted and he'd been denied while in jail: the pleasant feeling of being satisfied after a meal, to have your stomach comfortably full, without constant hunger pangs. He'd never been so hungry in his life.

Captain Deakins happened to be by the evening he'd been given that first menu, and watched in amusement as Bobby went a tad overboard on his choices. Picking up the little menu, he shook his head. "This all looks pretty good. But remember," he reminded Bobby, "you don't want to put too much in your stomach too quickly. If you get sick, you'll throw up, and throwing up is not something you want to do right now. You'll undo all the work they did on your face, and you'll damn sure re-injure your ribs, _again_. Besides, I don't think they'll let you have all this."

Bobby looked a little sheepish. "First real meal," he explained.

"Exactly my point. You could delay your release from this joint if you hurt yourself. Tell you what: take it easy at first, and when you're released and able to get around we'll go out to "Pete's" and I'll get you the biggest steak money can buy."

The thought of that was too good. "Jesus! You're killing me! Okay, okay. Deal."

Deakins was getting ready to leave, and stopped at the door and turned around. "Just get better, man. We need you." That was Deakins way of telling Bobby he cared.

Bobby nodded, touched by Deakins concern. "Okay. But remember, you owe me a steak!"

Xxxxx

The following morning both Eames and Deakins were in.

Alex told him. "Got some news for you, Bobby. The kid you were worried about, Luke? The inmate?"

Bobby looked up expectantly. "Yeah?"

"He's gonna make it after all. They were finally able to get the infection under control."

Bobby closed his eyes briefly and exhaled. Alex looked at him strangely. "I still don't get it…"

"He's…he's the reason I'm alive today."

Alex looked at him, not understanding. "_What?_"

Bobby explained. "They were about to…" he dropped his eyes. "They were about to… do me, when he told the rest of them he wasn't gonna do it, that he never wanted to do that."

"Then why was he there?" Alex seemed almost angry. Now Bobby didn't understand her. Why was she so angry?

"He was there, uh, to rough me up a little."

_"Rough you up a_ _little!_" Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Not to kill me," Bobby continued. "Or to torture me. If he hadn't protested, they'd have gotten me. And McFadden? He wouldn't have quit. He'd have done it 'till there was nothing left of me. The time they took to hurt Luke is what saved me."

Alex hadn't realized it had come so close, but Deakins knew.

"Don't even tell me you feel guilty," Alex said threateningly. When he didn't say anything Alex lost it.

"Bobby, if you weren't so freakin' beat up already I'd beat the crap out of you myself! Nobody made him go there to beat you, he made that choice himself. And yeah, it's a shame he got hurt, but it's his own fault for being there in the first place! I swear to God--"

"I don't feel guilty! I just feel bad for him."

"Bullshit!"

"Okay you two," Deakins said. "Do I have to separate you?"

At that moment, there was a rapping on the open door. They all looked towards the door, where Asst. Chief of Detectives Mark Connelly stood. To say they were surprised would be an understatement. Deakins and Eames both stood up; Bobby tried to sit up straighter.

"May I come in?" Connelly asked Deakins.

Deakins looked from Connelly to Bobby. "With all due respect, Sir, I think that should be up to Bobby."

"Of course. May I come in, Detective?"

"Yes...of course, come in."

Connelly came in, and stepped closer to Bobby, taking in his still battered features. Bobby's face was still shades of purple, green and yellow, although, thank God, the swelling had gone down. The left side of his face was still stiff, making him still look a little strange, but at least he could be understood now. He was shirtless, and Connelly could see the bruising everywhere that wasn't covered. His ribs were taped, and both arms were in slings. The rest of his body was covered by a sheet, but Connelly could safely assume that was all bruised, too.

After a moment, Connelly finally spoke. "Uh, Bobby…they call you Bobby? I just came by to see how you were doing?"

"Why the hell should you care?" Alex broke in.

Connelly straightened. "Because when one of my detectives is injured or hurt I make a point of checking on them."

"Out of concern, or guilt?" Alex was angry again.

"It's okay, Eames," Bobby said, as Deakins watched. Alex looked a little put out, but Bobby continued. "So which is it? Guilt or concern?"

"Concern, Detective," Connelly answered, getting a little more formal. "I explained my reasons for coming here. You can choose to believe what you want. I would like to know your present condition, how you are coming along in your recovery, and if there is anything I can do it make it any less difficult for you?"

"Yeah!" Alex said. "You can—"

"Alex!" Deakins broke in, starting to get angry himself. "Not now."

Then Bobby said what Alex wanted to say. "Yes. You can bring in the real killer, insuring that I never have to go back to that hellhole again. Do you think you can do that?"

Connelly didn't answer, so Bobby repeated his question, more forcefully. "Do you think you can do that!"

Captain Deakins, ever the diplomat, tried to smooth things over, in his own way.

"Chief Connelly, what Bobby is trying to say here is that, since this began, over four months ago, he's been beaten three times, each one progressively worse the one before. The time before this he was unconscious for two days. This last time he was beaten, tortured, nearly asphyxiated, and was minutes from being sexually assaulted. He's been abused by certain guards while in custody, and continuously threatened, and _so_ _far_ has spent over four months of his life in jail. Time that he can never make up. His reputation is in ruins, and because of that his job is in jeopardy. _And for a crime he did not_ _commit!_

For some reason, my detectives seem to think that you can help. I don't know why they would think that, but it sure would be great if you could use your influence to assist _your_ detective, which you seem to want to do."

"Well, of course I want to help." He looked at Bobby. "I'll do what I can, Bobby." He would have shook his hand, but since that was impossible, he just put his hand on Bobby's shoulder. Then he left, leaving the three of them staring after him, and Bobby feeling very uneasy.

Xxxxxxx

Arriving home, Mark Connelly sank onto the sofa. He thought about Nicole, the woman who was killed by Jake. He thought about Luke, the young inmate who nearly died in the same attack as Bobby. He thought about the two cops who had been killed in jail. And he thought about Bobby, one of his own detectives, and Bobby's unjust incarceration, the horrible abuse he'd suffered for the last four months and was likely to suffer for the rest of his life if convicted. Lastly he thought about his son, whom he loved dearly but could no longer control, and the havoc his son had caused.

_Oh my God! What have I done?_ And he cried.

tbc


	19. Chapter 19

By the Book Chapter 19 

_God…Deakins was right… _Bobby thought miserably, pushing his plate away gingerly with his right hand, slipping it back into the sling. _Jesus, that hurt_. His arm was supposed to be kept in the sling in order to heal properly, but he wasn't about to let one of those young nurses spoon feed him. Although, on second thought, it could bring a certain closeness and present opportunities for things sorely lacking in the last few months…

He leaned back, his head lolling back even further, trying to relieve the queasy feeling before he threw up again. He'd thrown up violently earlier in the day, and it had hurt unbelievably, just about as bad as when his ribs were first broken. Luckily he hadn't done any real damage, just strained them a little more. And he hadn't torn anything in his face. The pisser was, he wasn't even halfway full; he didn't think he'd ever feel full again. But right now he didn't care, he just wanted to not be sick. Then it happened again.

An hour later Bobby lay back in his bed, his ribs hurting bad, but at least he wasn't throwing up any more. He'd been given some anti-nausea medicine and only time and putting some food in his stomach again would tell if it was working. But he was not happy. Here he was, two days from being released, and he couldn't hold anything down. That could seriously delay his return home. They wouldn't send him home if he was throwing up and couldn't eat. _God damn it!_ It was always something. To top it off, his stomach was empty again, and he was hungry. He couldn't seem to get full.

That was something else he could thank that guard Sanders for. That prick messed him up, more than he'd ever know. Sometimes, just for the hell of it and to mess with Bobby even more, he'd withheld his whole meal, or sometimes a portion of it. (_sorry, Goren, looks like they forgot your meal tonight, I'll_ _have to speak with them about that.)_ Which was one of the reasons Bobby had lost weight in jail. And why he was always hungry. Add that to the list of things to get even with that guard for. That broken jaw won't be anything compared to what Bobby was going to do to him someday. That was on his "to do" list. And if he went to jail for it, well, at least it'd be for something he actually did.

On a more pleasant note, or at least he hoped it would be, something else he planned on doing was visiting Luke. He wasn't sure Luke would be receptive to a visit from him, but he had to thank him for saving him. When Eames got here, he'd have her walk down there with him. He thought about that, and chuckled. She would hate that. She still didn't think Luke deserved any commendations for his part in the attack on Bobby.

Later that evening

"So, Friday night then?" Lewis asked.

"Yeah, bring lots of money!" Bobby told him.

Lewis grinned. "I don't know why I bother even playing you…"

"Because I'm a poor civil servant, and I could use the money."

"Yeah, Bobby, like I believe—" Lewis stopped, watching as Alex came through the doorway. "Hi, Detective Alex," he said shyly.

"Hi, Lewis." Alex was always glad to see Lewis. He'd always been a great friend to Bobby, and he was pretty taken with Alex.

"Well, uh, guess I'll be seeing you Friday night then, Bobby," Lewis said.

"Don't leave on my account," Alex told him.

"No, I, um… have to go," Lewis stammered. "See ya, Bobby. Bye, Detective Alex."

Bobby nodded as Lewis left, then grinned at Alex. "Think he likes you, Eames."

Alex ignored that. "What's Friday night?"

"The day after I get out of here," Bobby answered. He still figured on getting out then. "It's also Poker night."

"Are you still throwing up? You know they won't let you out of here if you can't keep anything down."

"I'm aware of that, Eames. I'll be fine."

Alex looked at him, with both his arms still in slings. "And even if you do get out how the hell can you manage with--"

"I'll manage," Bobby said simply.

"You know, you keep saying that. But _how_ will you manage on your own? You can barely move, your ribs are so messed up. And you can't move your arms—"

Bobby was exasperated. "I know all that! But what the hell am I supposed to do? Hire a babysitter? I'm damn sure not staying here. I've been locked up now for 5 months! And I want out!"

"I know that. I'm just suggesting you hire a home care nurse or something."

"I'm not an invalid."

"Bobby…"

"Besides, in case you've forgotten, I've got some major legal bills mounting. Not to mention hospital bills, of which my insurance will only cover so much. And I had to have a bondsman put up the money for my bail. Look, I'm not pleading poverty or anything; Joe _is_ giving me a big break, but it's not exactly _pro bono_."

Alex suddenly felt a little bad, wondering if she'd embarrassed him. "I'm sorry, Bobby… I shouldn't have—"

"It's okay Alex. Maybe I can talk Lewis into coming over periodically if I need something."

_I could stay with you, _she thought. Then, _Oh my god! Where did_ _that come from? He's your partner, for god's sake!_ Thank god she hadn't said it out loud.

"Eames? Eames!"

"What? Oh, sorry. Just thinking."

"I was saying, would you like to take a little walk with me? They want me to start walking a little."

"Sure, where we going?"

"I thought maybe we'd take a little walk down to Luke's room, see how he's doing."

Alex sighed. Seeing how Luke was doing was not high on her list of priorities. Technically he had saved Bobby, but she still had no use for him. As far as she was concerned, he had gone to Bobby's cell with the express intent to harm Bobby, to beat the living hell out of him. The fact that the format turned out to be not to his liking didn't change the intent. She could not forgive that.

"Trust me Bobby, you do not want me there."

"C'mon, Alex, he did save me…"

She wanted to argue the point, but finally agreed. "Alright. We can walk all you want, but I don't want to be there in his room any longer than we have to be."

She watched as Bobby struggled to get up off the bed. Much as she wanted to, she didn't offer to help, knowing it would only make him mad. After a lot of grimacing and struggling, he finally made it up on his own. He was sweating profusely, but then grinned.

"Ready?"

She continued to watch him as he moved slowly out of the room, then caught up with him.

"You are truly something else!"

He smiled his beautiful smile, and they made their way slowly to Luke's room. Outside his door, Bobby stopped, wondering again if Luke would even let him in his room. But he plunged ahead.

"Would you knock?" he asked Alex. She did. There was no answer.

"Again," Bobby said, "louder."

After knocking again with still no answer, Bobby went tentatively into the room. He could see Luke lying on the bed, on his stomach, IV still attached. Bobby winced a little.

"Hey, Luke."

"What the hell do you want?" Luke said, turning his face to him.

"I, uh, I just wanted to thank you for stopping—"

"Well don't bother!" he snarled. "If I'd had known it was either me or you, it damn sure would've been you!"

"C'mon, Bobby," Alex said, her hand on his shoulder. "Told you this was a waste of time."

But Bobby didn't move. "Luke, I'm sorry this happened—"

"Not as sorry as me. If you're done, could you leave me alone please and get the hell out." He turned away.

"Look, Luke, I'm trying to tell you—I'm sorry this happened to you, I know it was meant for me. But you showed some integrity, you knew it was wrong and you couldn't let them do it to me."

"Wish I had now," Luke whispered. "You know when I went with them guys I hated you, you were the guy who sent me up. I wanted to hurt you really bad. I saw what they were doing to you, tying ya up with that duct tape and gagging you and hurting you. I thought it was so funny, we all did, when he put that stuff in your nose and you couldn't breathe and started choking." He stopped for a moment and tears welled up in his eyes. "Then I got scared, I knew that's what he was going to do, kill you with that stuff. It would have been horrible, it freaked me out… I...I never wanted to kill you, or fuck you with that damn broomstick, that was more than getting even, I just wanted to hurt you some, and I tried to tell them that. I never…figured they'd do it to me…" Now the tears overflowed.

There was an awkward silence for a moment, then Bobby said, "Look, I really appreciate what you did. If it helps any, when it's time for your parole hearing, I'm going to speak on your behalf. I'll tell them what you did. And if there's anything I can do to help you, I will. Just let me know."

Luke just nodded.

"So how are you progressing?" Bobby asked.

Luke looked down. "Not so good. They…they're going to have to do more surgery. They said they didn't know if I'll ever be…okay. Or normal." He looked up at Bobby and whispered, "I… I'm ashamed to admit it, but I…I still wish it had been you."

Bobby closed his eyes for a second as that sank in. "Yeah, well, I guess I can understand that. You've been through an extremely tough ordeal, one that wasn't meant for you, but for me. It's uh, normal to want to transfer the pain to another, to the one for whom it was originally intended."

Luke stared at Bobby, at Bobby's injured face, his taped ribs, both arms in slings, and couldn't imagine all the pain he had been through. How could he be so understanding, when he, Luke, had gone there and helped do that to Bobby? "I'm so sorry. If I had realized…"

Bobby shook his head as if to clear it. "It's okay. Take care, man. Seriously, if I can help... with anything. I hope...good luck with the surgery. And let me know when your parole hearing comes up, okay? I'll try to help."

Luke smiled wanly. "Guess that won't happen for a while now. I've got more charges pending now because of my part in the attack on you. I'm going to be in jail for a pretty long time."

Bobby nodded, and he and Alex left. Bobby seemed a little down. Alex was wishing they'd never gone to see Luke, but realized he'd have never gotten it out of his system if he hadn't at least spoken to Luke.

"Do you still want to walk a little?" Alex asked, as they headed back to his room.

"No. Actually I'm getting kind of tired." _And a little sick_ he thought miserably.

When they got back to his room, there was a tray of food waiting on the table, a nighttime snack. Bobby knew what it was, and groaned. It was back to Jell-o and broth.

"So just how do you manage, with your arms all bound up?" Alex asked curiously.

"Simple. I cheat." And he painfully took his arm out of the sling again. "See? And that's how I'll manage at home, too."

Alex sighed. "So I guess you never plan on getting better?"

Bobby didn't answer, as the phone began to ring. He picked it up, using his right arm again painfully.

"Goren." He still spoke like he was on the job.

"Bobby? It's Joe. I've got some news."

"What?" He didn't know whether to be excited or worried.

"It's your trial. They've moved the date up. We've only got two more weeks."

Bobby took a deep breath. Two more weeks…and then the beginning of what could be the return to normal everyday living. Or possibly the start to a whole new and much more dangerous way of life.

tbc


	20. Chapter 20

By the Book Chapter 20 

"Two weeks!" Bobby told Alex. "The trial is starting in two weeks." He sounded very tense.

"Wow, that's quick! Is Joe ready? What did he say?"

"He didn't. He just said in two weeks. He'll probably be in tomorrow with more details. God Eames! I don't know what to think about this. On the one hand, I want it to be over. My life's been so fucked up for the past five months I can't stand it. On the other hand, if it all goes wrong, my life is over!" He paced again, only slowly, then suddenly sat on the bed. "Christ! What am I going to do?"

Alex came over and stood next to him. She tried to settle him, putting an arm around his shoulders. "You're going to be fine, Bobby. You didn't kill Nicole. You know it, I know it, and soon the whole world will know it. There's no way they can convict you of this crime you did not commit."

Bobby looked up at Alex. "They do it all the time, Eames," he said quietly. "People get convicted of crimes they didn't commit all the time. You know that."

"But it's not going to happen to you! You have to have a little faith, Bobby. Faith in Joe, faith in the system."

Bobby was on his feet again. "Faith? The way things have been going for me? Well, fuck faith. The only thing I have faith in right now is that whoever pulled the strings to get me in this situation will also find a way to get me convicted."

"Bobby…" But he was too worked up, there was no settling or consoling him now. _God damn it!_ She thought. _Why did Joe_ _have to call tonight? He won't sleep at all._ "C'mon, Bobby, it's all right. Just settle down tonight, try to sleep, then you can talk to Joe tomorrow. I'll speak to the nurse, maybe you can get something to help you sleep."

That only made it worse. "Something for sleep! Something for pain! Something for nausea! I'm turning into a fucking drug addict! What's next? Something for—" He shoved the snack tray right off the table and into the trash with his injured arm, then yelped, doubling over in pain.

"Bobby! Please! Just…stop."

A few minutes later one of the night nurses came in. After giving Bobby hell for having his arm out of the sling, she checked him to ensure that he was, in fact, okay.

Turning to Alex, she informed her nicely that visiting hours were long over, and that she would have to leave, but she could come back early the next day. Alex agreed, then asked her about getting Bobby something for sleep. The nurse told her sleep medicine was on Bobby's list of meds to be taken as needed (the sleep pills just at night) "I'll bring him in some in just a few minutes." Then she took his vitals. After that, she said to Bobby: "Are you hungry? Would you like a snack before bed? Some more Jell-o?"

Eames quickly answered. "No! Uh, no, he's good."

The nurse looked surprised. "Okay, I'll be back in a few minutes with your sleep meds." Then she was out the door.

"You really do need to go, Eames," Bobby said, a little more calm now. "I appreciate what you're saying, and I know you're right. I'm just a little…scared, you know?" It was hard for him to admit that he was scared. Truth be known, he'd been scared for the last five months.

"I know, Bobby. It's okay that you're scared, anyone in your situation would be." _God that sounded so cliché!_

Bobby just looked at her. "Yeah, okay, see you tomorrow?"

Alex smiled and nodded. "See you tomorrow."

Even with the sleep and pain medicine, Bobby hardly slept. Finally he decided to get up and try to eat the Jell-o, then remembered he threw it away, and had refused any more. He laid back down, still trying to sleep, when the nausea came over him again, and he threw up violently.

After getting cleaned up and given more anti-nausea medicine, Bobby sat in the armchair in his room, his head and face pounding, his ribs hurting again with every breath. Not daring to lie down, which only made it worse, he sat for hours thinking about his upcoming trial.

The trial was now only two weeks away. His life had the possibility of changing dramatically in the next couple of months, and if it changed at all, it wouldn't be for the better. It would mean he'd be on the run, a warrant would be issued for his arrest. He'd be a fugitive, looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life. The stress alone would be exhausting; they would never give up looking for him. And his bondsman had put up a lot of money for his bail. If he took off, the bondsman could hire a bounty hunter to track him down. And that could be dangerous for both Bobby and the bounty hunter, cause Bobby would never allow himself to be captured. He'd do anything short of murder to remain free, but that didn't mean the bounty hunter would feel the same way. Bounty hunters would stop at nothing to get their man, and if all else fails, have been known to shoot.

Bobby had to force himself to settle down again. There was no way of knowing yet how the trial would turn out. He had to stop thinking like this. Still, it wouldn't hurt to make a few plans. And they had to be good. He definitely would not be the first man to jump bail, but he had to be one of the best.

He finally drifted off into another restless sleep.

------------------------------------------

Alex was having her own problems trying to sleep. She was very disturbed about the thoughts she'd had earlier concerning her partner. She grew up in a cop family. She knew the rules. What the hell was wrong with her?

-----------------------------------------

Doctor Preston was in early the next morning. Looking at Bobby's chart, he frowned.

"Still can't keep anything down?"

Bobby shook his head.

"Does it happen only after you eat?

"No. It happens all the time."

Preston frowned again. "Are you allergic to anything? Food, medicines?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"What about when you were a kid? Any allergies, anything unusual?"

"No." After a moment he said, "Well, there was this one time…"

"What happened?"

Bobby gave his best imitation of a shrug. "Uh…my Dad bro…uh, took me to the hospital once when I broke my arm. It was broke pretty good, and kinda twisted, they fixed it and a day later sent me home with pain medicine. I kept throwing up, every day, all the time, and no one could figure out why. My father refused to take me back to the hospital, said it cost too much money. Told me I'd get over it eventually. And for a change he was right; it quit after about two weeks. I just got better."

The doctor listened for a moment, then said, "I want to try something. I think you're having a reaction to something, so we're going to start eliminating some things. First I'm going to change your pain medication to something without codeine. If that doesn't work, we'll try the antibiotic."

"At this point, I'm about ready to try anything."

One Police Plaza, eleventh floor

At work , Alex caught up with Carolyn in the ladies room.

"Hey, Carolyn, you got a minute?"

"Yeah, sure. Everything okay with Bobby?"

Alex sighed. "Well, there's nothing _worse_. He's still sick. But his trial is coming up, it's in two weeks now."

"Really? Bet that's freaking him out."

"I'm sure he didn't sleep at all last night. But there's something I need to ask you."

Carolyn waited.

Alex took a deep breath. "Did you ever, well, have any 'feelings' for any of your partners?"

"Feelings? What do you mean, feelings?"

"You know, like…I don't know. Like he's all you think about?"

Carolyn laughed, then stopped, seeing the look on Alex's face.

"Sorry, Alex. I would have thought you'd have had thoughts like that a long time ago. How long have you been together?"

"Six years." She was a little irritated. "But it's just been since he's been in the hospital. And he's my partner, for god's sake!"

"So what? Does that mean you can't look, or think? Hell, Alex, I was only here a couple of months, and I thought about it."

Alex looked surprised. "You think about…you and…Bobby?"

Carolyn didn't look the least bit ashamed. "He's a good looking guy, Alex. Doesn't mean I'd act on it, though."

"Have you ever had thoughts like that about your partner?"

"Mike? Nah, but only because he's not my type. But Bobby…"

_I wish she'd stop saying that._ Alex was beginning to wish she'd never brought the subject up.

"So don't worry about it, Alex. We all do it…I mean, think about it." This time, she did look a little embarrassed. "You know what I mean. You're probably just a little more stressed than normal and thoughts are popping in your head that normally wouldn't. But it's okay, Alex. Those thoughts are normal anyway."

"Okay. Thanks alot, Carolyn." _At least my thoughts are normal._ _That's a relief._ She really was relieved.

Mt. Sinai, that evening

Entering his room the next morning, she saw Bobby again struggling, using his right arm. You really had to feel for the guy. Here he was, a natural lefty, forced to use his injured right arm for everything when he shouldn't have been using it at all, because his left arm was more seriously injured, and his left hand was broken when he broke the guard's jaw. She still couldn't imagine how he'd manage on his own.

"So how's it going tonight?" she asked, startling him with her presence.

"Huh? Oh, great! They think they might have found out why I've been getting so sick."

"Well?"

"They think it might be a combination of the drugs I've been given, that I'm having a reaction to them. So they changed the pain meds, and so far, so good."

"That's great! Do you still think they'll let you go home tomorrow."

"Looks like it. God, Eames, I've never been so anxious for anything in my whole life!" His dark eyes shone, for the first time in five months, and Alex couldn't be any happier for him.

A thought occurred to her. No one had been in Bobby's apartment in five months. She thought it might be a good idea to check out his place tonight, and clean it. Because no matter how self-sufficient Bobby thought he was, there was no way on earth he could clean house with two dislocated shoulders. So tonight, she'd clean, and get it all ready for his homecoming.

"Oh, and Alex? If they should ask you, they probably won't, but if they do, I _do_ have someone staying with me, okay?"

"Do you?"

"No, but they don't have to know that. I just don't want anything to screw this up."

Alex sighed. Why does he have to be so difficult? Against her better judgement, she agreed. "Okay, I guess. If they ask."

tbc


	21. Chapter 21

By the Book Chapter 21

Alex headed out to Bobby's apartment, and walked into a disaster area. She had forgotten the mess that had been left in the chaos of Bobby's arrest. There were still the beer bottles lying all around, newspapers, everything. Bobby had had the first of his police beatings a few days prior to his actual arrest, and hadn't been moving around too well, hence, the disinterest in cleaning at that particular point in time. There was dust all over, the entire place needed vacuuming, and the refrigerator…wow! She couldn't imagine where everyone's heads were to completely miss the fact that his apartment might need to be checked on periodically. Thank God no one had broken in during this time, although right now it'd be hard to tell. She was thankful she had taken the next day off to bring Bobby home; it was going to take her the better part of the night to clean this place up.

It was homecoming day, Bobby was finally leaving the hospital. Bobby was antsy, it seemed to be taking forever for everything to come together. At last the doctor came in, and pronounced him reasonably sound to go home, as long as there would be someone to help. Bobby assured him there would be.

One of the first problems Bobby encountered even before he left was getting dressed. Alex had brought him some clothes, jeans and a button down shirt, and just to make sure, she also brought sweats. A good thing, cause Bobby couldn't manage the jeans with just one injured arm. While Alex waited outside his room, he tried, but it just hurt ungodly. He finally gave up, rested a minute or two, and then tried the sweats. They weren't much better. He swore softly.

"Eames!" he called. Alex poked her head in, but didn't see him; he was dressing, or trying to, in the bathroom.

"What?" she asked.

"Could you, uh, send the orderly in?"

"Yeah, sure."

A few minutes later an orderly came in, and left a few minutes later, telling Alex she could go in now.

Going back into his room, Alex found it hard not to laugh. He was wearing his button down shirt with the sweats, the only combination that would work. "Nice outfit," she told him, with a little affectionate sarcasm.

"You brought it," he countered.

"You forgot your tie." This time she did laugh. "What did you need the orderly for?" Alex asked, knowing full well what he needed the orderly for. She just wanted him to admit it, to admit he needed help. Which he would never do.

"I just wanted to remind him I still needed my scripts, and to tell my nurse."

She was about to call him on this, when, as if on cue, his nurse came in with his scripts. _Damn he was good!_

"This one is for pain," the nurse told him. "Take it every four hours as needed. You have one refill. And this is your antibiotic. He wants you to continue on the antibiotic for another couple of weeks to insure that there's no chance of infection in your face. And Doctor Preston wants to see you in one month."

She handed him a list of "do's" "don'ts" and "what to do ifs", and went over everything as Bobby listened patiently.

"So, are we ready to go?" Bobby asked seconds after the nurse finished.

"Uh, yes," Alex said, surprised at the suddenness of his request.

Bobby stood up and gently kissed his nurse on the cheek. "Thank you, you've been very kind to me."

She actually blushed. "Good luck," she told him. "I'd like to say 'come back and see us', but that's probably not the appropriate thing to say." Bobby gave her that beautiful smile of his.

They made him ride down to the lobby in a wheelchair, (hospital policy) and Alex went on ahead to get the car. They helped Bobby up, and for the first time in months he felt like he could breathe. Like he was free. There was no way in hell he was ever going back.

On the way to Bobby's place they made small talk, although Bobby was already preoccupied.

"So how's it feel to be out?" Alex asked.

Bobby frowned. "How the hell do you think it feels?"

_Sorrree!_ Alex thought.

"That was a pretty stupid thing to say. Sorry."

After a few moments Alex started again. "So have you been in touch with any of your neighbors since you knew you were getting out?"

"No." Actually Bobby was not looking forward to this part of the homecoming. He was pretty sure he'd either be ostracized, or totally ignored. But after what he'd been through, he figured he could pretty much handle anything. He was used to being alone, anyway. "They probably won't want much to do with me. I'm still under arrest, accused of murder. Remember?"

It was pretty obvious there was a lot on Bobby's mind, so Alex gave up trying to draw him into a conversation, and the ride home was relatively quiet and uneventful.

If Bobby had been worried about a bad reception, he needn't have. Hardly anyone was at home; it was early in the day and most of his neighbors were at work or otherwise occupied. A couple of his older neighbors were there, however, and welcomed him home profusely.

The elderly Madison sisters were thrilled to see him again, and Clara reached up on tippy toes, took his face in both hands and pinched his cheek, telling him he was a "good boy." And Carla went on, clucking her tongue about the "poor man." Bobby was a little embarrassed about all this, with Alex watching amusedly, but mostly he was relieved. He honestly hadn't expected to be greeted so warmly. And then the sisters offered to take care of him, to look in on him regularly and bring him food. This, he hadn't expected. And this, he really didn't want.

Alex grinned. "Well," she said, "I guess this takes care of one problem."

Bobby looked at her. "Ha Ha" he replied sarcastically.

Throughout the course of the evening, a number of his neighbors dropped by, welcoming him home, wishing him good luck with his upcoming trial, condemning the dearly departed Nicole. Almost all of the tenants knew him well enough to believe he wasn't capable of murder. Overall, a very good reception.

There were a few exceptions, of course. One of these occurred when six-year-old Thomas Main arrived home with his mother, and first saw Bobby. He was extremely excited. Bobby was his hero, and Bobby was also very fond of Thomas.

"Bobby!" Thomas ran to him, throwing his arms around Bobby as best as he could, trying to hug him. Bobby wanted to swoosh the little curly haired boy up in his arms like he always did, but his injuries obviously prevented that. Seeing Bobby's arms both in slings, he looked up at him in wonder.

"Did you get shotted, Bobby?" His blue eyes were huge. Turning to his mother, he shouted, "Look, Mommy! Bobby got shotted!" He chattered on as though Bobby had never left. "Bobby, look, I got a ga…ga…a glider! You throw it and it goes up in the air a hundred thousand miles! Where's your gun, Bobby? Did the bad guy--"

His mother, who had always been very friendly with Bobby, suddenly grabbed her young son. She had a strange look on her face.

"Come on, Thomas, we don't want to bother the man."

"He's all right—" Bobby started, but the look in her eyes, the fear, told him everything. Without a word to Bobby, she dragged the protesting Thomas back to their apartment. Although she lowered her voice, he could hear her telling him, "You're not to go over there again, Thomas! Ever!" He watched Thomas, crying, demanding to know why he couldn't see his Bobby.

Alex watched Bobby closely, waiting for him to lose it, ready to catch him. But there was no reaction. "Let's go inside," he told her.

Once inside his apartment, Alex turned Bobby to face her, and looking into his eyes, told him, "That was _one_ person, Bobby. _One_ person! **_Do not_** let this bring you down!"

His eyes dropped. "I know. That one… just really hurt."

_God damn it!_ She had hoped this wouldn't happen, but realistically, she knew it would. And it could have gone a lot worse.

"Bobby…?"

Bobby sighed, dropping onto his couch. "I'm alright, Eames. Really. I know there are always going to be people who won't, _can't_, trust in me ever again. Even if I'm acquitted, there will always be some. The nature of the beast, you know? Guess I'm going to have to live with it." Then he smiled. "But you know what? I'm out, I'm free. Tomorrow I'm gonna get Joe over here, and we're going to work our asses off on this case. And tomorrow night, how about you and me, dinner out, then hit 'Mac's' for a while? I'm telling you, Eames, I'm gonna make the most out of this!"

"Whoa, hold on there, Bobby! Why don't we give you a few days to settle in, recuperate a little, and _then_ we go out. Okay?"

He realized she was right; just the trip home had worn him out. "Yeah, okay. By the way, Eames, the place looks great. Thank you," he said sincerely. He then looked _her_ in the eyes. "And I promise you, I am okay."

A few days later

Assistant Chief of Detectives Mark Connelly was pacing in his study when Jake walked in. He watched his father for a moment, then finally said, "You gonna let me in on what's going on, Old Man?"

Mark, totally stressed, blew up at his son. "Why the fuck can't you ever show a little respect!" Mark was really fed up with Jake, his morals, and virtually everything associated with his son.

"Sorry, _Dad_," Jake said sarcastically, causing Mark to frown.

"Jake…" 

"C'mon, _Dad_, what's going on?"

Despite his conscience bothering him terribly, his first concern was his son. "I don't know, everything is falling apart! My detective…Detective Goren? He's out on bail."

Jake paled. "What? I thought you said he'd never get bail!"

"I…I didn't think he would…"

"And what's this, 'my' detective shit? He ain't your son, Dad! I AM!"

Mark stared at his son. "What are you talking about? I know—"

"It just seems like since the beginning of this, you've cared more about his problem than mine."

"That is absolutely untrue, Jake! You're the one—"

"That's fucking great, Dad!" Jake shouted, ignoring him. "What? He's gonna solve the fucking case himself! Now what are we supposed to do?"

"I told you before, Jake. You don't do a thing! I'll handle everything."

"Looks like you ain't doing such a great job, Dad. Maybe I should take over. I know just what—"

Mark was on Jake in a second, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, and getting within inches of Jake's face. "Stay out of this, Jake! Stay out of this or I'll…"

"Or you'll what, Dad?" Jake said, not giving an inch. Mark slowly released Jake's shirt and literally crumpled into his desk chair. He had no answer for his son.

"That's what I thought." Jake smiled.

tbc


	22. Chapter 22

By the Book Chapter 22

Warning: for language

Jake watched as his father crumpled into the chair. He was so easy! Walking over to his father Jake stopped at his father's desk and rifled through his papers.

"What are you doing?" Mark asked, standing up to look over Jake's shoulder.

"Looking for something…ah, here it is." He held up a paper with personal data and information on Robert Goren. Including his address. "Just in case…" he said it mostly to himself.

"Leave it alone, Jake," Mark said threateningly.

Jake turned into him, snarling. "Why, Dad? Why! You're more worried about him than me! Why is it so hard to remember that _I'm_ your son!" He gave his father a shove, nearly knocking him down. Jake stared at his father, suddenly realizing. "You're thinking of turning me in, aren't you?"

Getting no response, Jake continued, his rage rising uncontrollably. "You are!" he said, answering his own question. "You bastard! You son of a bitch! You listen to me, Old Man. If you turn on me…if I even _think_ you're getting ready to do that, I'll blow that fucking cop's brains into the next century! Then you won't have to choose!"

"Jake--"

"Shut up! Just…shut the hell up, I gotta think…" Jake was pressing in on his temples, so hard he appeared to be in pain.

Mark looked flustered, then frightened. Was Jake totally out of his mind? "What the hell? Jake! You're talking crazy! You're--"

"Talking? You think I'm _talking_ crazy?" He looked at his father, and Mark did not recognize his son in those bright crazy eyes. "I'm more than talking crazy, I AM crazy. And I'm warning you, don't cross me. First I'll take that cop down, then I'll take you down, I'll take this whole thing down, I don't care! So just sit tight, Pops, and let it go."

Mark sat down slowly behind his desk. _Oh my God!_ What the hell was going on? Jake was totally out of control. This whole thing was out of control. It was only a matter of time before someone else was hurt. Or killed. A feeling of dread overcame Mark as it suddenly hit him: Jake was right, he was not just _acting_ crazy, Jake _was_ crazy. It had been a long time coming, he couldn't exactly put his finger on when it happened, but it did. And he also realized that Nicole Wallace had not been killed by accident. She had been killed purposely, by a vengeful obsessed Jake, as punishment for her perceived affair with Goren.

After leaving his father's house in a fury, Jake made a little pass to the apartment building where Bobby lived. Calming down a little, he decided to watch for a while. It seemed like a quiet little place, not too much activity, and not a lot of comings and goings. Perfect.

Bobby's Apartment

Joe and Bobby were in Bobby's living room, discussing the upcoming trial.

"I think it's looking pretty good, Bobby. I'm pretty sure we can at least get you off on the 'reasonable doubt' angle."

"That's good, Joe. But I'm not guilty. If I get off on reasonable doubt there will always be those who will doubt _me. _I'm a police detective, Joe, I'm supposed to be the embodiment of trust. Who's the hell's ever going to trust me if they have doubts about me? If I've never been cleared of a muder charge? I want better than 'reasonable doubt'!"

Joe looked Bobby in the eye. "I'm not sure we can do that, Bobby. They've got compelling evidence—"

"That is BULLSHIT! You know that! Their evidence is all circumstantial! It's lies! It's—"

"It was good enough for the grand jury," Joe pointed out.

"Fuck you."

"Bobby, for Christ's sake! I'm just telling you--they've got enough evidence. They've got you over the body, they've got fingerprints, and they've got motive. Reasonable doubt may be the only way we're going to get you off."

"That's just great," Bobby said miserably. "I'll lose my job over that—"

"Then we file a discrimination suit against the department."

Bobby slumped down on the couch. "That's _not_ what I want, Joe. I don't want to sue to get back a job where I'm not wanted. And if they have doubts about me, they won't want me."

"Bobby, the department doesn't have doubts about you. You're the one who has doubts about you."

Bobby ran his fingers through his hair, just the act of moving his arm making him wince in pain.

"And if you don't keep your arm in that damn sling," Joe threatened, "I'm going to sic old Clara and Carla on you again."

That brought a smile to Bobby's face as he thought of the elderly sisters and their constant clucking over him. It felt good to know that they cared so much for him.

"Alright," he conceded, putting his arm back in the sling. But he was not happy. "We'll work on my reasonable doubt defense. I don't agree with it, but more than that, I do not want to go back to prison."

Finally Bobby looked at Joe and told him. "Joe, I'm not going back to prison."

Joe was surprised that Bobby even had to mention that. "I know that. That's what we're working for here."

"No."

"What?"

"I _will not_ go back to prison."

Joe was confused, spreading his hands out. "What?" he repeated. "What are you saying?" Then he narrowed his eyes, and watched Bobby carefully.

"I'm telling you, Joe, so you can do whatever it takes to keep your own ass out of jail, but the minute it starts looking bad, I'm out of here."

Joe was on Bobby in a second. He actually grabbed Bobby by the front of his shirt and shoved him onto the couch. He was furious. "Keep your mouth shut, Bobby, and don't say another word!"

He didn't have to worry about that. Bobby was half lying on the couch, bent over, doing his best to hold his ribs. For a fleeting second Joe felt bad that he'd hurt Bobby like that, but the moment passed. "Do you have any idea what it means to jump bail? DO YOU?"

Bobby looked up at him through pain-filled dark eyes, and tried to straighten up. Now _he_ was furious. "And do _you_ have any idea of the HELL I've been through for the past five months!"

Joe started to say something, but Bobby had barely started. "The beatings, the food deprivation? Do you know what real hunger feels like?" He didn't wait for an answer. "It hurts, Joe, it friggin hurts. That goddamn guard never let me get used to it. He'd starve me, then let me gorge myself. Then it started all over."

Bobby stopped for a breath. "And that was only part of it. Every day, EVERY GOD DAMN FUCKING DAY, they threatened me. They threatened to beat me, to torture me, to fuck me with objects! Every day they told me today was the day, and the newest plan they had for me. Every fucking day," he finished in a whisper, "and I wasn't even in the real prison yet. You know what they did to me."

Joe stood there, momentarily at a loss for words. "I…I know it was especially rough… for you…"

Bobby just stared at him. "Look, all I want you to do is to keep yourself out of trouble over this, and…understand, and help Alex to understand…"

"She won't, Bobby. Not in a million years. You do this, and it'll kill her. She'll never understand."

Bobby painfully ran his hand over his face. "Make her," he said grimly.

"No, Bobby. You wanna jump bail? YOU tell her. You deal with her. When some bounty hunter drags your dead ass body back here and she has to identify your body in some morgue, well I guess _then_ I'll have to deal with her. Or maybe your captain will. Or your friend Lewis."

Bobby sighed, and turned away.

Joe watched him. Y'know, I ought to just have them revoke your bail. Maybe it'll save your life."

"Yeah," Bobby said. He was very bitter. "Save me from one killer, to be killed by a worse one."

One week later

Bobby's trial—The State of New York versus Robert Goren—had begun, and the courtroom was packed. Some of the spectators included Alex, Deakins and his wife, Lewis, plus friends and acquaintances of Bobby, a few enemies gloating over his misfortune, and more than a few curious neighbors and onlookers. And Asst. Chief of Detectives Mark Connelly sat in the very back.

Bobby sat next to Joe near the front of the courtroom. He listened as the prosecutor, ADA Peter Williams, gave his opening statements.

In a very theatrical performance, he told the jury how he intended to prove, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Robert (Bobby) Goren had maliciously and willfully killed the victim, Nicole Wallace. That Mr. Goren had had gone to the residence of Ms. Wallace in an attempt to prevent her from revealing to the press and the entire world the details of their sordid relationship, that of a police detective and an accused killer. When that failed, he had maliciously killed her to insure her silence. Williams claimed that he would produce witnesses who would swear they had seen Goren over the victims body, and that he would provide motive and proof.

Bobby listened to all this practically in shock. He knew what the prosecutor would say, but to hear it said aloud, put together in a neat little synopsis, in a court of law, with friends, neighbors, enemies and god knows who else was a different matter entirely. If he didn't know it before, he knew it now: he was in big trouble.

Mark Connelly watched as Bobby's head bowed, ever so slightly, listening to the prosecutor's words. And he knew they were going to nail Bobby's ass to the wall.

tbc


	23. Chapter 23

By the Book Chapter 23

After watching Bobby at the trial yesterday, and seeing what the trial and the entire situation had done to the man, Mark Connelly's conscience finally got the better of him, and he came to a very difficult conclusion. He was going to turn his son Jake in. He would gather all evidence, recorded calls to those dead detectives, explicit information that Jake had given him, and everything else that was even remotely connected to the case. He would call a press conference, have Jake arrested, and then shoot himself in the head. It was the hardest decision he'd ever had to make, not just for himself, but for his wife Sarah, his daughter, and his dear little grandchildren. That was the saddest thing for him, that he'd never see his little grandchildren grow up. But he could never live with the shame of what he'd done, and the humiliation that would follow.

It was made all the harder by the fact that Jake had moved back in at home. Jake was, of course, broke. He'd lost his two-bit job and his apartment and headed home. It didn't hurt that he wanted to keep an eye on his father, too. He was positive his father was conspiring against him with that detective. He could picture the two of them, laughing at him as they made their plans. _Well, we'll just see who has the last_ _laugh_, Jake thought, a crazy grin flickering across his face.

The more Jake thought about it, the more interesting it got. He'd just wait, bide his time, keep watching. And when it seemed like it was happening, that his father really was going to turn him in, then he'd do what he had to do. It was a matter of survival, survival of the fittest. That detective…under normal circumstances he'd be a lot tougher to handle, but since he'd been injured, it would now be so much easier to kill him. And fun, too. _Maybe I could get them together and let Dad watch while_ _I blow Goren's head off. Wait, maybe I'll shoot him first in the knees. Then in the arms. Ha! Then I'll shoot him in the fucking balls!_ He smiled at that little scenario. _See how Dad_ _likes that!_

It was as if Bobby was no longer a real person, merely someone or something that really didn't matter.

Jake's thoughts continued. _Then when he's screaming and_ _begging for mercy, then I'll blow his fucking brains out. That'll teach Dad a lesson. Maybe Dad will finally get it, once and for all, that I am his son! Then life would be just like it always was. And everything will be okay again._

**Bobby's Trial**

ADA Peter Williams, as promised, brought in witnesses who swore they saw Bobby at the crime scene. One of the first witnesses was Officer John Skagen.

ADA Williams: "Can you tell us in your own words what happened on the night in question?"

Officer Skagen: "Yes, Sir. We got an anonymous call about 10:15 that evening concerning a disturbance at the Victorian Hotel. When we got there, he was on top of the victim."

Williams: "Can you be a little more specific, Officer Skagen, and point out to us who that person is?"

Skagen: "Yes, Sir, sorry. The man who was on top of the victim was the defendant, Robert Goren, who is sitting right over there."

He pointed to Bobby, who sighed in frustration, closed his eyes and placed his head in his hand on the table. _That_ _wasn't the way it was!_ he thought to himself, very angry. He _so_ wanted to tell that to the entire courtroom.

"Object!" Bobby hissed at Joe, who didn't. "We'll get them on cross," he said. Bobby stared at him angrily.

Williams: "Go on, Officer. What exactly was the defendant doing over the body?"

Skagen: "Well, it looked like he was…kissing her." A gasp went through the gallery, and before Joe could even object, Bobby went ballistic.

"THAT IS A LIE! THIS WHOLE THING IS BULLSHIT! THEY—"

Chaos erupted. The gallery was going wild, the judge was banging his gavel, Joe was trying to calm Bobby, Bobby was still yelling, and for the next couple of minutes everything was totally out of control. Finally the judge's banging gavel and booming voice came through, and things quieted down.

The judge was furious. "Mr. Simon, I am holding both you and your client in contempt, and I fining you $200.00."

"Yes, Your Honor," Joe said, having no choice.

"And Mr. Goren," the judge glared at Bobby. "This is the second time you have disrupted my courtroom. If this happens again I will have you restrained and gagged. Is that clear?"

Bobby glared back, and didn't answer.

The judge continued. "You are being held in contempt, and fined $500.00. Is _that_ clear?"

When Bobby still refused to answer, the judge decided that he'd had it with Bobby. "Bailiff, remove the defendant from my courtroom."

Another murmur went through the courtroom, and Joe started, "Your Honor! I ob—"

"Objection overruled!" And two bailiffs took Bobby from the courtroom. The judge then ordered that Bobby's words be stricken from the record. The judge addressed Williams. "Counselor, you may proceed."

Williams: "Officer Skagen, please continue."

Skagen: "Well, it looked like he was kissing a dead body."

"Objection!" Joe stood up, "Speculation."

Williams defended his witness's statement. "Your Honor, the witness is only stating what he saw."

"Objection overruled."

Williams turned and looked pointedly at the jury, then turned back to the witness.

Williams: "Okay, Officer Skagen, what happened after you discovered the defendant over the body?"

Skagen: "Well, naturally, we all drew our guns, and forced him to the ground. One of the guys, it might have been one of the dead detectives, frisked him and came up with a gun. Then we handcuffed him. He resisted, and someone knocked him around a little."

_Damnit!_ A little more information than Williams wanted. "But, you said, he _did_ resist?"

Skagen: "Yes, Sir."

Williams: "Thank you, Officer Skagen. That's all." Williams returned to his seat at the prosecution table.

The judge asked Joe if he'd like to cross.

"Yes, Your Honor." Joe got up and walked over to Skagen.

Joe: "Officer Skagen, you said you frisked him, handcuffed him, he resisted, and then you knocked him around a little?"

Skagen: "Well, _I_ didn't, but yes, that's what happened."

Joe: "In that order?"

Skagen: "Well, um, yeah."

Joe: "So you handcuffed him, and _then_ he resisted?"

Skagen: "Um, I'm not sure…" 

Joe: "Isn't it a little pointless to resist _after_ being handcuffed?"

Skagen: "Uh, I guess."

Joe: "Does it strike you as a little strange that a seasoned detective with years in the NYPD would resist at all, let alone after being handcuffed? Don't you think he would know he would be 'knocked around a little'?"

Skagen: "Yeah, he'd know."

Joe: "Why would he do that, Officer Skagen?"

Skagen: "I don't know…"

"Objection!" Williams called out. "He's asking the witness to speculate on another person's state of mind!"

Joe: "I'll rephrase. Isn't it a fact, Officer Skagen, that the defendant did not resist at all? That he purposely made a point of _not_ resisting? And someone hit him, knocked him around anyway?"

Skagen: "I…don't remember."

Joe: "One last question, Officer Skagen. When you said the defendant was 'kissing' the victim, is it possible he was actually giving her CPR?"

Skagen: "Uh, yes, Sir, it's possible, I… uh…don't remember…"

"I'd say there was a lot about this incident you don't remember," Joe observed. "That's all."

_Later that evening_

**Captain Deakins' house**

There was a small gathering at Deakins house that evening, in honor of Joe's success in court. The entire day had gone well. Included in the small group were Alex, Logan and Barek, Joe, Lewis, Bobby and of course Deakins and his wife, Angie. There were drinks, beer, and snacks. And Angie had ordered in two of those huge six foot long sub sandwiches. Everybody was in an up mood, even Bobby. And everyone was glad to see Bobby enjoying himself, probably for the first time in over six months.

Bobby, taking a big drink of his beer, teased Joe. "It's about time you did something to earn all that money I'm paying you."

"All that money?" Joe asked incredulously. "I'm losing money on you, Buddy," he laughed. "Especially after today."

Joe meant it as a joke, but Bobby looked sheepish. "I'm…uh… really sorry about that, Joe. It just made me—I'll take care of your fine."

Joe looked at Bobby like he was crazy. "The hell you will! I can take care of my own fines."

"But I—"

"It's okay, Bobby. I'll take care of it. Just do me a favor, okay, and don't fuck up like that again, cause that crazy son of a bitch judge will throw us both in the slammer in a heartbeat. And I don't think we'd look good in matching orange jumpsuits." Even Bobby had to laugh at that. "C'mon Bud, just enjoy yourself tonight, okay?"

Bobby nodded, in a sort of melancholy mood. He took in the small group of friends gathered here, all supporting him, all caring about him, and he felt content.

Much later, when Bobby went to bed, for the first time in years he fell asleep easily. He didn't have a single nightmare.

tbc

A/N I've never written a trial scene before (in fact this is only the eighth story I've ever written.) Hope it wasn't too hokey.


	24. Chapter 24

By the Book Chapter 24

Mark Connelly woke up with a heavy heart. He was very down, had been for days. He had not the slightest desire to get out of bed, or even move, for that matter. Depression had a way of doing that to you.

Sarah, his wife, was extremely worried. She wanted him to see a doctor. He refused. He knew a doctor could not help him out of this dilemma. Nobody could. He had dug himself into a hole so deep he could never hope to get out. He could never recover from this. The only thing he could do to even begin to fix any of this was to admit his guilt in the framing of Detective Goren. And that, in turn, would result in not only his arrest, but that of the real killer, his son, Jake. That was the worst part of it, turning his son in. He felt like such a failure. A traitor to his own son. And Jake, of course, would never forgive him, even in death. But it had to be done. Jake was unpredictable, totally out of control. Who knew when he would go off again? When he would kill again? He'd tasted blood once, did it get easier the second time around? No, Jake had to be stopped. And he, Mark, had to stop him.

But first, he had to get up. That was the hard part right now. He just could not get up.

On a personal note, Bobby's injuries were finally starting to heal. His dislocated left shoulder and broken hand were progressing nicely, and his face was still in the process of healing. All the swelling had finally gone down, and the bruising was gone. He was still seeing the doctor regularly to make sure it was healing properly, and so far there were no signs of rejection or infection.

His ribs, however, were a different story. They'd taken a tremendous beating, both from fists and vicious kicks from every one of Bobby's attackers. They would still take some time to heal. Occasionally a sharp move or an extra deep breath would aggravate them. His right arm wasn't doing as well, either, due to the fact that Bobby had never kept it immobile enough to heal, so that he wouldn't be a complete invalid and could somewhat take care of himself when he left the hospital. Now he was paying the price. It ached horribly all the time, and there didn't seem to be anything that could be done for it, although his doctor said surgery _might_ help. Bobby wanted nothing more to do with surgery, especially when it only "might" help. So, he would continue to live on pain pills for a while, and do therapy on it, along with his other arm. And hope it would work.

In the meantime, Bobby's trial was progressing, alternately going from bad to good and back again.

ADA Williams brought the emails between Bobby and Nicole into evidence. Bobby listened as the emails were read aloud to a basically enthralled gallery, how Nicole had watched as Bobby and his girlfriend had had sex; how Nicole had wanted Bobby, and how she had threatened to make the emails public. Not only was Bobby incredibly humiliated, but it was damning evidence. Bobby was tired of all the manufactured evidence, the innuendoes, and the outright lies, and once again protested. This time the judge showed no mercy.

"Bailiff, restrain and gag the defendant."

When the bailiff approached Bobby, Bobby suddenly went crazy. He fought off the bailiff and another joined in.

In the gallery, Alex's eyes welled up with tears. She couldn't stand to see her partner being treated so badly. Nor could Joe. He spoke to the judge privately, and the judge called a recess, after reprimanding Bobby severely and leveling a fine twice as large as before, on both Bobby and Joe. And he told Bobby there would be no more "next times."

Later that evening at Bobby's apartment, Joe literally lit into Bobby. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded. When Bobby didn't say anything, Joe continued. "You cost me $500.00 this time! Not to mention—"

"I'll pay the fine!" Bobby said, getting angry too.

"And where in the hell are you going to come up with the money? Your own little fine is costing you another $1000.00! You know you're already into your personal savings over this, and you've got that bondsman who's charging you some hefty interest. And you're not working. Once your savings are gone, what then?"

Bobby had no answer.

"And do you know how close he came to restraining and gagging you? I had to do some hard and fast talking to prevent that!"

At that Bobby turned away. That was obviously a sore spot, and Joe jumped on it in an attempt to keep the sometimes volatile Bobby in check in the courtroom.

"Is that what you want, Bobby, to be publicly restrained and gagged—"

Bobby suddenly turned into him, furious, bumping him back. "You think that's what I want? Do you? You think I—" Bobby's hands suddenly flew to his face, his hands gripping his forehead and face tightly. He turned away, visibly shaking.

"Bobby?" Joe followed him. "Hey, Buddy, what's the matter?" He tried to get in front of him, but Bobby wouldn't allow it.

"Get the fuck away from me!"

"Bobby…?" He put his hand on Bobby's shoulder, and Bobby froze for an instant.

"Don't…don't touch me." He sank onto the couch, hands still over his face, physically shaking.

Joe stepped back. _Shit…what the hell just happened?_ He took out a pack of cigarettes, and lit two of them. "Here, Bobby." He held one out for Bobby, who took it with a trembling hand.

After a few moments Bobby seemed to settle down a little, and Joe ventured a question. "What happened, Bobby?"

"I…don't know…when you said…" and Bobby couldn't say the words 'restrained and gagged' "it made me think of McFadden…and…and what they did to me."

"What they did to you—it's over, Bobby."

Bobby stared at him. "You think so? You think it's over for me? Do you really even know what he did to me?"

"Everything? Probably not—"

"He tied my hands behind me with that fucking duct tape. He pushed that filthy gag in my mouth. I could hardly breathe. And then he had them torture me, twisting my arms right out of their sockets and beat the fuck out of me. They broke half my ribs…" he shuddered. "They kept me gagged, and they put that…vial of spirits to my nose, I couldn't breathe at all. I started choking…I couldn't get a single breath." Bobby appeared to be hyperventilating as he spoke.

"Take it easy, Buddy…take it easy…" Joe said soothingly.

"It was…terrifying. I kept trying to breathe, and couldn't, and he just stood there watching me! Letting me pass out—I thought I was dying…" Suddenly Bobby broke down, holding his head in his hands again, not looking up for a very long time. Joe couldn't tell if he was crying, distressed or both.

Joe realized this was probably the first time Bobby had really put into words the terrible ordeal he'd been through, and put his hands lightly on Bobby's shoulders and gently massaged. "It's okay, Buddy, just let it out." To himself Joe thought, _Christ! This poor bastard's been through it all. If and when this is all over, he's gonna need a whole team of shrinks._

_Later that evening_

Sometime later, the phone rang.

"You want to take this, Bobby?" Joe asked, not sure if Bobby was up for anything.

"Yeah." He took the phone. "Hello?"

"Detective Goren? This is Asst. Chief Mark Connelly."

Bobby frowned. "What do you want?" he asked testily.

"I'd um, like to set up a meeting with you and your lawyer. Would tomorrow morning be acceptable to you?"

Bobby didn't get what Connelly could possibly have to say to him. "Uh, I guess so. What's this about?"

"I'd rather not discuss this over the phone."

Bobby didn't like this, but he agreed, checking with Joe to make sure he was available. Then he hung up, and looked at Joe.

"Well this should be interesting."

Bobby had no idea what an understatement those words would prove to be.

_Next morning, home of Mark Connelly_

Mark stayed in bed a lot longer than he planned. He knew he had to get up, he had that appointment with Goren and his lawyer. It was hard, so hard. Today was the beginning of the end of his life. He was in no hurry.

Two hours later, Mark made his way downstairs, running into his wife on the way down.

"Finally!" she said, only half teasingly. "You're up. I just made coffee." She took his hand and led him into the living room. "Here, honey, sit here. I'll get us some."

"Sarah…no. I have to go."

Sarah stared at him. "Mark, honey, please! Tell me what's wrong!"

Mark's only answer was to look at her, and kiss her tenderly on the lips. And he left.

Sarah watched him from the window, tears trickling down her cheeks. Before long, her son Jake joined her at the window.

"What's wrong, Mom?" he asked. "Where's Dad going?"

"I don't know, Jake." She looked at him, her eyes filled with pain. "There's something wrong with him. We've got to do something…"

Jake watched as his father got in his car. "Don't worry, Mom. I'll take care of him."

_Bobby's apartment building_

At the door, Mark paused for just a moment, reconsidering his decision to fix this. He was very uneasy about this, very scared. Then he plunged forward, and pressed the buzzer.

Bobby clicked on the intercom.

"Detective Goren? This is Mark Connelly. May I come up?"

_Bout friggin' time_. "Yeah, come on up."

Mark pushed open the door to the entranceway, and just as he entered, another person pushed his way in, nearly knocking Mark down. Mark was annoyed, and turned to the person angrily. "Watch it—Jake?"

"Hi, Dad." He grinned. There was that crazy glint in his eyes again. He waved a gun in front of his father's face. "Shall we go visit your friend now?"

tbc


	25. Chapter 25

By the Book Chapter 25 

"Jake, no…what are you doing here?" Mark was shocked to find himself standing in the entranceway to Bobby's apartment with his son Jake. A clearly disgruntled, manic Jake with a loaded gun.

"Let's go see your friend," Jake repeated.

"He's not my friend!" Mark retorted. "He's one of my detectives, a…"

"A son?" Jake prompted.

Mark sputtered. "No… not a son. A… you're my son! He's—"

"Dead?"

Mark looked stricken. "Dead? Oh God, Jake! No! Please!"

"Let's go, Dad. Don't want to keep _whoever_ he is waiting."

They made their way up to Bobby's apartment.

"Knock," Jake ordered, nudging his father with the gun. He stood off to the side, out of view.

Mark knocked on the door. A few moments later Bobby opened it. "Chief?" he asked, still wondering what Connelly wanted with him. "Come in." Mark entered, and Bobby was starting to close that door, when suddenly Jake slammed it back into Bobby's face. The impact and the shock knocked him backwards.

"What the…?" Joe said, reacting to the commotion.

In a matter of seconds Jake was in the room, brandishing his gun, and Bobby was pulling his hands back from his bloodied face, Joe was standing there in shock, and Mark just watched numbly.

Jake looked at Bobby and his newly broken nose. "Sorry about that. Does it hurt?" His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

The way he was waving that gun around made all of them stand stock-still, afraid any movement would cause Jake to lose it.

"Close the door, Dad. And lock it." When Mark still stood there numbly Jake said, in a very controlled rage, "Shut it, Dad, or I blow his head off." The gun was now pointed at Bobby.

"Alright! J-Jake…please," Mark pleaded. He shut the door and locked it.

"Great! Now if you would kindly take a seat on the couch." He waved the gun around again, indicating where he wanted them all to sit. "Not you," he said to Bobby. "I want you here, on the floor, on your knees."

As Joe and Mark lowered themselves to the couch, Bobby said, "Look, I don't know what the hell's going on, but—"

"ON YOUR KNEES!"

Bobby hesitated, not wishing to be put in that position for any number of reasons.

"Have it your way," Jake said, very nonchalantly, and turned the gun on Joe.

"Okay!" Bobby said, and got on his knees, not one bit happy. This put him in a very vulnerable position. The uncomfortable feeling came to him that Jake had it in for him really bad.

Jake started pacing back and forth. He held the gun carelessly, putting them all on edge. He was talking to himself, not all of it intelligible. He looked at them. "Now what am I supposed to do?" Without waiting for an answer he continued. "Kill you, Dad? Kill _him_?" He refused to call Bobby by name. "And what about this other guy?"

"WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO DAD?" Jake appeared to be very out of control, and didn't seem to have any idea of what he was doing or what he even wanted to do.

Bobby spoke, very quietly, in a non-threatening manner. "Jake, listen. We can still work this out—it's not a done deal. There are things we can do—"

Jake was on Bobby in a flash, hitting him in the back of his head with the butt of the gun, knocking him sideways. He had to catch himself to prevent himself from going completely down. Bobby clutched his head. It didn't knock him out, but he cracked him pretty good. Then he put the gun right up to Bobby's head.

"You say one more word, just one fucking word, and your brains are going to be splattered all over that wall! Got it? Got it?"

"Yeah," Bobby mumbled, somewhat dazed. He pressed his hand to his head again to try to alleviate some pain. _Christ, it hurts!_

Joe made an attempt to get to Bobby, and Jake turned a gun on him. "Don't touch him. Sit down." Jake warned.

Joe sat back down, and both he and Connelly sat there in shock. Despite being a lawyer and dealing with dangerous criminals, Joe himself had never been on the receiving end of anything like this.

Bobby nodded his head at Joe, indicating he was all right.

"Tell him what you were gonna do, Dad."

When Mark remained silent, Jake continued his non-stop talking. "Wanna hear something funny?" He addressed Bobby. "I've got good news and bad news for you. The good news—Dad was coming here to clear you. The bad news—it won't do any good, since you'll be dead."

Bobby closed his eyes briefly, as if to shut out Jake's words.

Jake continued. "Did you ever hear of a father doing that? What kind of father turns his own son in! And for the likes of you? Huh?" He pushed the gun into Bobby's temple.

Bobby didn't say anything, figuring it wasn't worth a bullet in his head. But he was scared, very scared. How many times was Jake going to put the gun to his head before he finally pulled the trigger?

"Go on, Dad, tell him," Jake insisted.

Mark was shaking as he told them, "I…I was going to turn Jake in—Jake, you need help! I want to—"

"_I need help_?" Jake sneered. "I think it's this guy who's going to need some help." Still holding the gun to Bobby's head, this time he cocked the revolver. And Bobby reacted. A million things seemed to go through his mind in an instant. He was going to die, that was a given, but he was not going to just kneel there and let Jake execute him. In that split second he turned his head sharply and the bullet exploded into the wall, missing his head by a quarter of an inch.

Despite the burning pain in his face Bobby grabbed for the gun, and Jake and Bobby both struggled with it, with Jake seemingly getting the edge, thanks to his position on top and Bobby's weakened condition. Jake finally got the gun turned and pressing hard into Bobby's gut. Bobby shut his eyes and braced himself for the impact of the bullet. A shot rang out, and suddenly Jake stopped struggling. Bobby opened his eyes to find Jake falling on top of him, a confused look in his eyes, and blood all over both of them.

It took Bobby a moment to realize he was not shot, and he turned his head just enough to see Mark standing with a gun in his hand and a horrified look on his face. The gun fell from his hand, and Mark hurried over to Jake, dropping to his knees and pulling Jake into his arms. Jake looked at his father with that same confused look and said, "Dad?"

Joe helped pull Bobby up, and both turned away to give Mark and Jake some privacy as Mark cradled the dying Jake in his arms, rocking him back and forth, crying, "Jake, oh, God! I had to do it! I'm so sorry, I love you!" over and over.

Bobby sat on the couch at Deakins' house later that evening, nursing a broken nose and a gun flash-burned face, alng with a throbbing headache. Angie and Alex were both there, helping with the nursing, fussing over him. Alex was both very concerned and very relieved for her partner. Relieved because Bobby had escaped yet another attempt on his life and it now appeared that Bobby would be exonerated. Concerned for his latest physical injuries, and even more for his mental ones.

It had been a hell of a day. Jake had died in his father's arms, and Mark had turned himself in after giving a statement. Police and CSU were at his apartment nearly all day. Bobby had been taken to the hospital where he had been treated for minor flash burns to his face from the gun, a broken nose and less serious injury to his ribs this time. He was physically wore down, and having a gun placed to his head numerous times had mentally wore him down.

Bringing Bobby a cup of coffee she set it down in front of him on the coffee table, and handed him his pain pills and some water. Angie and Jim Deakins had prepared a bed for him in the spare bedroom, but for tonight at least, Bobby felt more comfortable on the couch. Figured he'd be less trouble there, too.

"How are you feeling now?" Alex asked.

Bobby sighed, putting the pills in his mouth, along with a big gulp of water.

"I don't know…god, am I ever gonna stop hurting?" He pressed lightly on his ribs.

"You'll feel better soon, Bobby. There's no one going to go after you anymore—"

"You going to see to that, Eames?" Bobby managed a smile, and a yawn. "I could use a full time bodyguard."

"How bout just a partner again, to watch your back?"

Another smile. "That would be great, Eames." He yawned again. "Sorry, don't think I'm going to make it through that coffee."

The stress of the day, the physical hurting, and the narcotic effect of the pain pills had left him exhausted. He started to drift off. Alex helped him lie down and get comfortable. He slept easier that night, with Alex's words going through his mind as he fell into a deep sleep.

_How bout just a partner again, to watch your back?_ No words had ever sounded sweeter.

tbc


	26. Chapter 26

By the Book Chapter 26 

_"Cuff him," Jake ordered his father, throwing him the handcuffs. And as Jake held the gun to the kneeling Bobby's head, Mark cuffed Bobby's hands behind_ _his back. Jake grabbed a handful of Bobby's hair and pulled his head back. "Open up," he told Bobby, forcing the gun into his mouth. Bobby jerked away, and somehow Jake was on top of him, pushing the gun into Bobby's abdomen, and pulling the trigger, again and again until first one, then two…three…four…five…six bullets were lodged in Bobby's gut. Bobby could see the pool of blood, his blood, growing ever larger on the floor. I'm dying. I'm dead._

"Wake up! C'mon, Bobby!" Alex was trying to wake Bobby, who had managed to wake the whole household with his screaming. Deakins appeared, along with his wife, and their daughters trailing behind. "What the hell--?"

Bobby was yelling, flailing at the air. He was terrified, sweating profusely; he had no idea where he was.

"It's okay, Bobby," Deakins said. "It was a dream, Bobby, just a dream. You're okay." But Bobby wasn't awake yet, and his arms and fists flailed dangerously. One fist caught the edge of Deakins' chin, nearly knocking him down. For everyone's safety, Deakins grabbed and held his arms, while trying to wake him up.

Finally Bobby woke up, startled to see Alex and Angie and the girls standing there, with Deakins on top of him, pinning him down.

"What? Get…off!" Bobby tried unsuccessfully to dislodge Deakins.

"I will when I know you're okay. _Are_ you?"

"Yes! Now get off!" But Bobby didn't look okay. When Deakins finally got off him, he made a feeble attempt to get up, then fell right back down onto the couch. He was drenched in sweat, and he ran his hands through his damp hair and over his face, over and over. "Oh God!" he kept whispering. Bobby's heart was pounding in his chest; it was obvious even through his tee shirt, and he was breathing shallowly and rapidly.

"What happened?" one of the girls asked Angie. "Is he gonna be all right?" asked the other.

Before Angie could answer, Deakins shooed them back to bed, with the assurance that Bobby would be fine.

Alex sat by Bobby, wiping his face with a cool rag, while Deakins stood with his wife, unconsciously rubbing his chin where Bobby had hit him. "This whole thing has been really tough on him," he told Angie softly. "And it's not getting any easier."

"Poor Bobby," Angie whispered. "He doesn't deserve this."

Deakins didn't mention this to Angie, but he was somewhat concerned about Bobby emotionally, particularly after Joe had mentioned the incident from the other night.

"I'm…okay," Bobby was fully awake now, completely embarrassed and feeling guilty for waking everyone. "I'll be alright. You can go back to bed if you want."

"Bobby," Deakins started.

"No, really. Go back to bed. I won't be waking anyone anymore tonight. I'm not going back to bed tonight. There's no way I'm going back to sleep now, no way in hell."

After Deakins and Angie finally went back to bed, Bobby said, "I shouldn't be here. I should've gone to a hotel or something—"

"Bobby, they want you here. Do you think they would have asked you to stay here if they didn't want you?"

"I don't know. C'mon, Alex, I have enough problems with nightmares on a _normal_ day. Why should I figure it'd be any different the night after some psycho puts a gun to my head? I shouldn't be here—for any number of reasons. I should be dead ten times over! And I definitely shouldn't be here in Deakins house, bothering him and his family!"

Alex didn't want to argue with him about it, so she dropped the subject.

Bobby slumped back down on the couch. Alex sat next to him, where they stayed for the rest of the night, alternately talking, sometimes dozing off. Every time Bobby dozed, he'd wake with a start. When Deakins and Angie came down in the morning, they found Bobby still awake. He had not dared to move so he wouldn't disturb Alex, who had fallen asleep leaning against Bobby's shoulder. At last Bobby got up, easing Alex all the way down on the couch.

"How are you feeling today, Bobby?" Angie asked.

"Better, thank you," he lied. "Anxious to find out what's going to happen now that Connelly confessed."

"Well, you've got a lawyer," Deakins said. "Call Joe, see what he thinks. Hell, he was there! Get him over here! Here, call from my den."

Bobby nodded, then went into Deakins' den and waited somewhat impatiently for Joe to answer. About ten minutes later Bobby emerged.

"Well?"

"I'm going over there. Not sure when I'll be back."

"Angie's got some breakfast going. Ham, eggs—"

"Later."

"At least take some coffee."

Deakins glanced at Alex, who was still sleeping on the couch, and looked questioningly to Bobby.

"Just let her sleep. I'll talk to her when I get back. She needs some sleep, she stayed up with me most of the night."

Bobby started for the door, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. "And what about you, Bobby?"

"What about me?" It was almost a challenge.

"When are you going to get some sleep? When the hell are you gonna eat? When the hell are you going to start taking care of yourself? Ever since this thing started—"

"When it's over! When it's over, and I know that I'm going to make it. When I know that I'm going to live. When I know I'm not going to wake up in prison with six inmates standing over me! _That's_ when I'll worry about taking care of myself. When I know there's going to be something left to take care of."

After a moment his anger died down, and his face softened a little. "Thanks, Captain. I know you're…things haven't exactly been going that well for me and well…thanks." Seeing the slight bruise on Deakins' chin from Bobby's fist last night, and feeling understandably embarrassed, he said, "Uh, sorry about that." Then he was gone.

The Captain watched as Bobby left. He was worried, but he couldn't put a finger on just what exactly he was worried about. Bobby had come through so much already—being arrested, charged with murder, being beaten, and an especially horrendous assault which led to numerous injuries, many of which still hadn't healed. He finally decided it was Bobby's head he was worried about. Last night's nightmare had been just one in a long line of recurring nightmares and flashbacks. And Joe had told him of the episode a few days back when Bobby totally lost it, thought Joe was attacking him. Whether or not Bobby was ever cleared, it would not be an easy road for him.

Office of Joseph Simon

Joe stared at Bobby as he walked in. "Jesus, Bobby, you look like hell!"

"Yeah, well you don't look so good yourself."

Joe smiled. "My first time in a hostage situation," he defended himself.

"Keep hanging around me," Bobby told him. "The way my luck's been going…"

"I'm in the process of doing something about that. I've already spoken to Judge O'Toole, and ADA Williams. I've asked him for a continuance to discuss new evidence. We're going to take a statement from Connelly, have latent check out any print evidence they can on him, and look into any other kind of evidence he gives us. If the evidence checks out, and the ADA and the judge accept it…well it might soon be all over for you, man. The tough part will be getting the judge to go for it."

Nicky's Bar and Grill—two nights later

ADA Peter Williams sat at the bar at Nicky's, nursing a double whiskey, a little soused already. A lawyer friend of his approached from behind.

"Looks like your case is skewed."

Williams looked up, and glared at his friend angrily. "Fuckers!"

"You going to let them get away with it?" his buddy asked, sitting on the stool next to him, and signaling the bartender for a drink.

"Ain't no way in hell that bastard didn't do it," Williams groused.

"Too bad, this is the kind of case that can make you or break you."

"Think I don't know that?"

His buddy grinned at him, egging him on. "In fact, this could be the case that turns Joe Simon into a household name, the new Johnny Cochrane."

Williams slammed his empty glass down.

"Yeah? Well, we'll see about that! Ain't no way that fucker didn't do it! I don't see what kind of evidence they could possibly have to the contrary."

"Well they must have something."

Williams glared at him. "I don't give a damn what they've got! I've put over four months into this case so far. That son of a bitch did it, and he's going down for it. I don't care what it takes." He signaled the bartender. "Why don't you just leave that bottle here." It wasn't a question.

Joe's office, next day

Bobby was at Joe's office again, at Joe's request.

"Coffee?" Joe asked, getting himself a cup.

"Sure, why not. So what's going on?" Bobby was antsy again, the waiting was driving him crazy.

"Well," Joe said, a satisfied look on his face. "As I told you, it depends on the judge and the ADA. The judge has agreed to a continuance, and later this afternoon I'll be meeting with them both. I've got Connelly's statement, and all the evidence I could muster. He came completely clean, Bobby."

"So how's it looking?" Bobby asked.

"It all depends on the judge, and that damn ADA. Think that bastard is out to make a name for himself, and this is just the kind of case to do it. So if they decide to continue with the trial, then that's what we have to do. But we've got good evidence, great evidence, if this doesn't clear you, then nothing will. I'd say if we can get those two to really see the evidence, maybe end this without even continuing the trial. And we've got a pretty damn good shot."

All Bobby wanted was an end to his misery, to have his life returned to him, to be a free man once again. He closed his eyes briefly and prayed. _Please God let it_ _happen…_

tbc


	27. Chapter 27

By the Book Chapter 27 Bobby's Trial 

The next day, in court, Joe spoke to the judge. "Your Honor, new evidence has come to light that I believe would have a positive effect on the outcome of the trial for my client."

"Objection!" The ADA practically shouted it.

"Objection overruled." The judge looked at Joe. "Continue."

"Your Honor, I am prepared to disclose any and all of this evidence to yourself and the ADA."

"Approach," the judge told them both.

Joe approached the bench, carrying an armload of papers. The judge scanned through some of them, and then ordered a recess until the following week. He ordered Joe and the ADA into his chambers.

Immediately upon entering the chambers he lit into Joe. "What the hell are you trying to pull, Counselor?" He was not a bit happy.

"Your Honor, this evidence just came to light—" Joe started.

"This is bullshit!" Williams interrupted.

"Be quiet! I want to hear this. Go on, Counselor."

"Your Honor, the other morning we were expecting a visit from the assistant Chief of Detectives, Mark Connelly who had informed us he had information that would help in Detective Goren's case. When he arrived, his son pushed his way into Detective Goren's apartment, virtually taking both Detective Goren and myself hostage. The younger Connelly did not want this evidence disclosed, and had made the decision to kill Goren. After shooting and, by pure chance, missing Goren's head with the bullet, he and Goren scuffled over the gun. When it appeared that the younger Connelly had the edge, the elder Connelly shot, and killed his own son. It was then that Connelly admitted all that had happened, and gave us the proof. It clearly proves the innocence of Detective Goren."

As Joe was talking the judge was looking through the papers, pictures, and documents. He looked up at Joe. "I'm, uh, a little taken aback by all this. I will have to go through this, have my clerk do a little research, and I will get back to you. But I have to say, if all this proves to be true, it will be looking very good for your client. And if it's bullshit, you will find yourself in contempt, and your client's bail will be revoked."

"I assure you, Judge—" Joe started, and was again interrupted by Williams.

"Judge!" Williams started. "It's too late! He should have presented this before the trial started!"

"It just came up!" Joe said heatedly.

"Counselors! That's enough! I will get back to you both. You are excused."

Joe exhaled deeply. _Thank God!_ Joe was pretty excited. Williams was angry, upset and a little scared that the case he'd been working on for the last couple of months was starting to look like it was going down the tubes.

Same day, home of Captain Jimmy Deakins 

Bobby wandered about the house aimlessly. Every night for him had been the same. The nightmares never let up. If it wasn't Jake shooting him in the head or gut, it was McFadden tying him and suffocating him. Throw in a few scenes with Dad beating him and Mom locking him in a closet…and you the recipe for the perfect night's sleep. Or rather, lack of sleep.

Bobby was looking and acting like a zombie. He was operating strictly on autopilot. Thank God he was off work because, quite frankly, he'd be a sitting duck in a confrontation with a perp.

Later that day Deakins sat him down for a talk.

"Bobby, have you considered seeing someone?"

Bobby looked at him. "You mean a shrink?"

"Yes."

"I know I need something. I—I can't go on much longer like this. The nightmares—they're getting worse, y'know? And I hardly sleep as it is. It seems the minute I even lay my head down they start. And, and when I'm awake, I keep seeing them…"

Deakins frowned. "Seeing who?" 

"McFadden, Luke, all of them, even Jake. And he's dead! He _is_ dead, right?"

"Yes, Bobby, he's dead. Mark Connelly killed him, remember?" Now Deakins was starting to worry.

"Yeah…okay… I remember. But if he's dead, why does he seem so real?" he whispered. Bobby's dark eyes were filled with fear.

"I—I don't know, Bobby. It's all the trauma you've had lately, that's the only thing I can figure. The mind…"

Bobby was visibly upset. "Captain, it's not like it's the first time I've been in a hostage situation, or had my life threatened. I've—"

"Bobby, this was different. You know that. Your life was threatened every single day in that prison. That weighs very heavily on the mind. I'm asking you to do this as a favor to me, Bobby. I want you to see a therapist. I know someone who's very good."

"Captain—"

"Dammit, Bobby! You're my best detective, Goren, and I'm not about to lose you! You know damn well that before you can come back to work you'd have to see the department shrink anyway. It wouldn't hurt to get an early start. Frankly, I'm surprised you're fighting me on this, you of all people should know the importance of counseling."

"I'm not fighting you…I've just got a lot going on…If I get convicted, I'm really not going to need a therapist. More like a rape counselor, and then a mortician."

"Bobby—"

"I already told you, once I know I'm going to survive all this, then I'll look into taking care of myself." Bobby got up and started to walk away.

"Goren! Sit back down!"

Bobby turned and looked at Deakins, but didn't move.

"God dammit, Bobby! Sit your ass back down! And that's an order!"

Bobby stared at Deakins for a second longer, then slumped back onto the couch.

"Captain, you don't have to lecture me on the virtues of counseling." He ran his hands through his hair. "Believe me, I know. I've had more than my share of it, from the stuff with my mother and my own shit…"

"I believe you. So what's the problem?"

"I don't know. I'm… just not ready…"

"Ready?"

"To open myself up like that again. It's… tough. It brings it all up to the front again. It makes it all seem like it's happening all over again. It's too…real. And I'm just not ready. I can _not_ do it. Not yet."

Deakins went and stood by Bobby, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Not only _can_ you do it, Bobby, you _have_ to do it.

In order for things to return to the way they were, you have to get yourself better. And if that entails counseling, then that's what you have to do. It's the only way."

Bobby looked up at him with obvious pain in his dark brown eyes.

Deakins squeezed his shoulder. "Just remember Bobby, you've got a great support network out here. Alex, Joe, Lewis, me. Hell, you've even got Logan."

That finally got a smile out of him. "I know you're right…" The ringing of the phone interrupted them. "Your phone…"

"It's alright. Angie will get it. So how about it? I can get you set up today."

"Let me think about…no, dammit! Alright, Captain, go ahead. Set me up."

A big grin spread over Deakins' face. "This is the right thing, Bobby."

Bobby nodded, he knew it was, but that didn't make it any easier. It still put the fear of god in him.

Angie entered the room, holding the phone. "Bobby, it's for you."

Bobby got up and took the phone. "Thank you," he told her politely. "Goren," into the phone.

"Bobby? It's Joe."

"Yeah, what's up, Joe? What happened with the judge?"

"Bobby, he took the papers and is looking into it. Even he says that if it checks out—and we know it will—it's looking good for you. Real good."

For the second time in as many days, Bobby thanked God. Maybe this would all work out after all. And maybe, if he did that counseling shit, things would come together for him, and he could finally get on with his life.

"Thank you, Joe, let me know what develops." 

"I will, Bobby. Talk to you later." Bobby hung up the phone. He looked at Deakins and Angie. "That was Joe," he said needlessly. "Captain, he said the judge was willing to look over the evidence. He says it's really looking good. Jesus, Captain…"

Tears welled up in Bobby's dark eyes. Angie went over and hugged him. Deakins squeezed his shoulder again.

"I told you it was going to work out, Bobby. You're going to be alright, just hang in there a little longer."

tbc


	28. Chapter 28

By the Book Chapter 28 

Bobby was back in therapy. As he had told Deakins, it wasn't the first time he'd been in therapy. The last time had been after he'd been shot and nearly killed (See "The Informant") and fallen into a major depression. His doctor back then had been the psychiatrist Dr. Roberts, and though Deakins had recommended someone he personally knew, Bobby elected to go back with Dr. Roberts. Bobby felt secure with Dr. Roberts, and had confidence in him. It had been Dr. Roberts who had saved Bobby's life. Dr. Roberts had been pleased to see Bobby, but not under these conditions. He and Bobby had a lot of work to do. Particularly since Bobby's circumstances left him still in jeopardy. But even without that, he was very much in trauma over what had already happened. The nightmares continued, if anything, they were getting worse.

The week the trial was in recess proved to be very long, frustrating and emotionally draining. Tensions were running high. Bobby wasn't sleeping, but that was par for the course with him. He wasn't sure he wanted to sleep anyway, that only led to the night terrors and nightmares.

Being awake wasn't much better. That just gave him more time to think and worry about his trial. He tried to imagine what it would be like to be a free man—so much had happened to him in the last half year—he forgot what it was like to be free.

But mostly he dwelled on the negative. Again, with so much happening all he could think about was that it would always be this way. That the judge, for some unknown god-forsaken reason would throw out all the new evidence, he'd get convicted and spend the rest of his life in prison in protective custody. Protective Custody—ha! That was a joke! He'd barely survived it the first time, and still had the injuries to prove it. He'd never survive another attack.

Alex came into the room, back from 1PP, where she was on desk duty for a while. She brought him a beer.

"Bobby," she interrupted his thoughts, "you're pacing again."

"Really? And I thought_ I_ was supposed to be the observant one." Bobby was extremely moody and uncharacteristically sarcastic, not just with Eames but with everyone.

"Does it bother you?" Bobby asked.

"What?"

"My pacing. Does it bother you?"

"Of course not. It's just that…you need to relax a little. This has been hard on you—"

"You _do_ have a knack for stating the obvious."

Alex just looked at him for a minute. "Here," she said, thrusting the beer at him, spilling most of it on his shirt. "Do all the pacing you want. I'll be in the kitchen with Angie." She was pissed.

_Why do I do that?_ _What the hell is wrong with me?_ Bobby wondered, watching her disappear. He was unbelievably stressed. God, he needed another session with Dr. Roberts! And if Joe didn't call soon…

-----------

After going upstairs and changing his shirt, Bobby came back down and stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching as Alex and Angie prepared the evening meal.

"Uh, Eames?"

"What, Bobby?" Alex asked, not looking up, clearly still upset with him. Angie looked on, questioningly.

When Bobby didn't say anything, Alex finally looked up. He looked like a chastised little boy standing there. Her heart softened, and she went to him.

"We need to talk," he told her, and Alex gave him a "duh!" look, and they went off by themselves to the back porch of the Deakins' home.

"So?" she asked, still not happy with him.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah?"

"Alex, I mean it—I've been a total jerk."

"Well, maybe not a _total_ jerk." Alex tried to inject a little humor into the situation.

Bobby smiled that little smile she loved so much. "Thank you. But I've been pretty bad."

"Well it's not like you don't have a million things on your mind."

"That's true. But it's still no excuse to take it out on the people who mean the most to me, and have done nothing but help me, including you_. Especially_ you."

"Apology accepted, Bobby." She got up on her tippy-toes and kissed Bobby softly on his cheek. "I know things will be better soon, Bobby. Just wait, you'll see."

Bobby nodded, but inside he wished he was just half as confident as Alex seemed. And Alex wished she felt half as confident as she sounded. They were both just going to have to wait, and see how it all turned out, making for a pretty stressful time for Bobby.

-------

That evening, just before dinner, Bobby received a phone call.

"It's for you," Deakins said, holding out the phone. "You want to take it here, or in—"

"Here's fine," Bobby said, taking the phone. "Goren," he said into the phone.

"_Bobby, it's Joe."_ Bobby's stomach lurched. _"Get out your_ _best suit, Man. We're due in court at 9:00 a.m. sharp."_

Bobby's stomach hurt, like it was cramping. He didn't say anything for a moment.

"_Bobby? You still there?"_

"Yeah, yeah, I'm—what did he say? Did he give you any indication?"

_"No. Nothing. He just said he'd gone over all the evidence and that you were to show up in court tomorrow."_

"What? He said it like that? 'Show up for court tomorrow.' Just like that?"

_"Yeah, kinda like that. But don't_ _worry, you know the judge's flair for the dramatic. It could mean anything, it could mean—"_

"It could mean I'm fucked!"

_"Yeah, it could. But it could also mean you're free."_

Again Bobby was silent. Finally he said, "Okay, Joe, I'll meet you there at 9:oo."

_"Okay. And Bobby? Try to get a good night's sleep tonight, okay?"_

It took everything Bobby had not to laugh out loud. A good night's sleep? What the hell was that?

As Bobby rejoined the family at the dinner table, they all looked at him expectantly.

"Um…that was Joe…"

"And?" Alex asked impatiently.

"I don't know." Bobby's voice was very soft. "But I have to be in court tomorrow."

Deakins sighed. "That's means he's decided." Then to Bobby, "Why don't you sit down and eat, Bobby? I know you're going to worry all night, but right now you need a little something to keep you going. C'mon, Angie's prepared a great meal."

Bobby looked at Angie, specifically, but said to them all. "Uh, with all due respect, I think I'll just sit this one out. There's no way I could eat anything. I'm sorry, Angie."

"It's okay, Bobby," she told him. But she was very worried about him; she thought of him as a son. "Honey, you really do need to eat."

"Maybe I'll get something later," he said to appease her.

He then went out and sat on the Deakins' back porch. He'd kind of taken a liking to that porch, it was quiet and peaceful, just right for sitting in solitude and thinking long into the night. Sometime later, one after another, each of them came out and joined him, until they were all out there, talking quietly, drinking coffee, and offering Bobby their support in any way he needed it.

Finally, in the early morning, the Deakins went off to bed, and Alex fell asleep next to Bobby.

Bobby thought about the others, all sleeping, and tried to remember the last good night's sleep he'd had. Tomorrow was it. If the evidence wasn't good enough, he'd be done for. If he got convicted, they just might as well shoot him in the head right there in court, because that's about as long as he'd last in prison.

Bobby watched as the sun came up, his arm protectively around Alex as she shivered in her sleep in the early morning frost. The sunrise was beautiful. He appreciated it even more, wondering just how many more sunrises there were in his future.

--------

Morning at the Deakins' house was hectic. Bobby had taken Alex in, and then went to take a shower and get dressed before everyone else was up. As Joe had suggested, Bobby put on his best suit, and made quite a dashing figure.

It was a big day in court. Everyone was there, Bobby, Alex and Joe, who, naturally had all arrived early, Jimmy and Angie Deakins, Lewis, a few of Bobby's other friends, and a few supporters from the Major Case Squad who managed to have the day off. All were pulling for Bobby.

On the opposite side of the court was the sullen and scowling ADA.

Finally, the Judge arrived and the bailiff announced, "All rise!" After the judge was seated the rest of the courtroom followed suit.

Judge O'Toole shifted through some papers on his bench, seemingly taking his time, glancing occasionally at Bobby with an unreadable expression.

Finally, "Will the defendant please stand?" Both Bobby and Joe stood.

"Detective Goren, based on a review of the evidence pertaining to your case, and a statement given by Mark Connelly, it has become obvious that you had no part in the killing of Ms. Nicole Wallace. You are hereby cleared of all charges, and all records relative to any information that include your alleged part in this crime shall be destroyed. You are free to go, with the apologies of the court and the people of New York."

Bobby staggered slightly, as a wave of emotion overcame him. A loud buzz went through the courtroom which was alive with excitement.

"Order!" Judge O'Toole intoned loudly, banging his gavel. "Order in this court!"

When things settled down, Judge O'Toole had one more thing to say. "Detective Goren, I have one more piece of advice for you. The next time you appear in my courtroom, in any capacity, and you disrupt my courtroom again, I promise I will throw the book at you so hard you will never see outside a jail again. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

The judge almost smiled, and Bobby may not have disrupted the courtroom, but his friends did, letting out a loud "whoop!" And causing the judge to bang his gavel to no avail.

Bobby pumped Joe's hand vigorously, Alex and Bobby hugged, and his friends surrounded him, thumping him on his back. Bobby was completely overwhelmed.

-------------

Late that night, after the hoopla had all died down, Bobby went outside to the porch again. It was finally starting to sink in—he was a free man. Never again would he be charged with anything to do with this crime, it was finally over. He'd be starting back to work in his job as a detective first grade with the Major Case Squad in a week, with the stipulation that he continue his counseling with Dr. Roberts. Not a problem, he planned on doing that anyway.

He also had regular checkups for his cheekbone, to insure there were no infections. The rest of his injuries continued to heal on their own, and were coming along nicely.

After a while Alex, who'd stayed the night again, joined him.

"Thought you might want some company."

"Always," Bobby smiled at her.

"So, how do you feel?"

"Relieved," Bobby said, "like the world's been lifted from my shoulders."

"I bet. So have you decided what you're going to do about your apartment?"

"I've been thinking about it, and I think I'll probably go back. It's been professionally cleaned, and my elderly neighbors, Clara and Carla, are ready to start fussing over me again."

Bobby looked thoughtful. "You know, it's kind of nice to have someone watch over you, really care…" He looked pointedly at Alex, and both thought about their conversation a few weeks ago.

Alex looked up at him. "You mean like a partner again, to watch your back?"

"Sweetest words I've ever heard," he murmured.

End.

Thank you to all of you who took the time to read this, and for all your reviews and comments. They are greatly appreciated. Hope you enjoyed it.


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